


Touch me from afar

by Lokiitama



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: #langstautumnevent2K18, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autumn Langst Gift Exchange 2018, Blindness, Canon-Typical Violence, Hallucinations, Happy Ending, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Langst, M/M, Torture, Winged!AU, Wings, touch-starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiitama/pseuds/Lokiitama
Summary: "Red was right there. He could practically touch her with his fingertips-Something grabbed his leg. Midair. As he turned to see what exactly could manage that, he saw the beast of flesh and machine, an arm strikingly similar to Sendak’s squeezing its claws into his leg. Then he registered how fast the ground was coming toward him.The air in his lungs was knocked out by the impact. The world dulled. His ears were ringing, every single one of his senses was a blur."-Lance ends up prisoner to the enemy, and finds himself changed for the worst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orphiclyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphiclyre/gifts).



> Here is my gift for Orpheus, from the [ Langst Autumn Event 2018 ](https://langstronevent2k18.tumblr.com/%22Langst%20Autumn%20Event%202k18)
> 
> You gave me the prompts "Blindness", "Touch-starvation" and "Wing!AU" and I did my best to provide!
> 
> I know that you had also wished for something about s7, but since I still didn't watch it... I did my best. The set up is still during s6, around the middle of it, actually!

It was the little things that threw Lance off the most, he realized as he was straightening some of his feathers, getting distracted from the meeting. There was no shame in being thrown off, he was pretty certain. Plus, it wasn't always bad little things : it was both the good ones _and_ the bad ones.

For example: his two best friends making the most amazing team he had ever seen. Two genius that knew it and owned it.

The first time he had noticed how close Pidge and Hunk had gotten, he had felt a giddy happiness spreading through him. Both of them weren't the best of socializers - the downfall of a being a genius, Lance guessed.

Hunk always had had a tendency to be nervous when meeting new people, and would end up never getting to know them. Each time, his excuse would be that his tech, and Lance, were more than enough. It was sweet, but the poor boy really needed to see more of the world.

It was pretty much the same for Pidge. Back then, she had so much to worry about, that she never actually took the  time to get to know them. It never helped. Especially when they needed to work as a team in simulations and other projects. Until Voltron that is.Until Hunk had built a Lion detector and Pidge Gunderson became Katie "Pidge" Holt.

Until they were thrown in space, and to forced become a team, so they could save the entire galaxy. After that, it had been the nicest of changes in their dynamic. Especially for his two best friends. They were rarely seen without each other.

He couldn't be happier. To see their wings relaxed around each-other, as they engaged friendly space tech banter he could hardly follow. To know there was someone else that understood them so deeply.

Although Lance's feathers were already straightened, his fingers never stopped their movements, as his gaze shifted to Allura. She was in the middle of the control room, standing tall and proud. Once again, her colourful, colossal, wings were tight against her back. Although not as tight as when she was piloting the Castle, or working on diplomatic issues. He had seen all the positive changes that she had been through, considering how things had been when she first woke up.

Sure, she still made sure to stay perfect in her presentation and immaculate in her appearance, from her hair to the tip of her wings. The only times she might have looked only a little disheveled, was when the rest of the team was a terrible mess. The changes he saw were small and emotional, not physical. The way she addressed them was the biggest. She had started using their names, instead of their titles. From the day forward, it felt like she started easing up on them, like a bridge was crossed. They seemed to move on from being a Universe-saving Team to a Universe-saving Family. Now, she would join their preening sessions. Coran had to pester her to join them at first when she didn’t dare. She opened more about Altea and herself after that.

More than anything, seeing his flock this relaxed around each other, had soothed Lance's incessant need for closeness. It certainly didn't disappear, since he wasn't getting as many casual touches as he would have liked to, but it had died down to a manageable amount.

... That was until the other little changes. The bad ones.

The subtle change in Shiro's behavior. It was the way he frequently snapped at the team, lowering morale. The way he would hold his head, because his headaches were becoming so much worse.

The change of Lance’s bayard. Reminding him of the missing presence in the Castle. He missed his friendly banters with Keith, the roughhousing they would do together, before ending up in their flock’s nest, preening off any feathers that dared stick out.

And the most important change. Lotor.

If anything, Lotor seemed to pick the flock, _his_ flock apart. Put enough stress on each of them, so the team bonding moments seemed less important for the greater good of the Universe. The same bonding moments that had been so engrossing and brought them so much closer. Now, the preening sessions would be quick, hovering on the borderline of just ‘necessary’, before they all rushed back to finish what was needed. It wasn’t fun anymore. The times where they would speak about everything and nothing. There wasn’t friendly teasing or throwing old feathers at each others faces. It was just something that needed to be done, so they wouldn’t get bothered by their wings.

He missed having his family by his side to goof off. He missed Hunk's great big hugs, Pidge's casual nudges of her fluffy wings, Allura's smiles and touches of reassurance when he was doubting himself. The training sessions, that ended up in tickle fights, with Keith, Shiro's careful, but sometimes clumsy fingers, threading through his feathers to straighten them...

He missed the little things. No, he _craved_ those little things.

But it was okay. Kinda. If he didn't receive what he craved, he went to them to get it.

He didn't babble about his need for touch to their faces. He was too embarrassed to say it. If their reactions were anything like his, they weren't doing much better on the touch-starved scale either. Basically, a win-win situation.

However, he would go to Hunk and flop down over him. He would bring his wings up Hunk's face, uncaring about project he was working on. Getting his best friend to scream his name out in surprise, brought a grin to his face. Then they'd just stay next to each other, a wing around one another as they chatted about their day. Or he would listen to Hunk explain, for the third time, the project to him. It didn't matter that he wouldn't understand it anyway. He enjoyed seeing his friend make grand gestures and passionately explain, what the tiny piece of scrap he was working on, could do.

He did go and force Pidge to get a bit of human contact. She wasn't as easy-going as Hunk was, but he enjoyed taking care of her wings. She wasn't one to do it properly. Or do it at all. _"A waste of time for the stuff I could be doing right now_!", she often said. She also enjoyed grumbling at Lance when he came to preen her by force, complain that he was bothering her. Lance knew better though. Her wings always relaxed when he started preening them. He had been surprised at her already opening her wings, an invitation to be preened, the last times he had waltzed in her room.

These kind of moments always brought him a smile. His best friends were amazing.

Again, though... that was before Lotor starting acting up.

Nowadays, Hunk would pat him slightly. Maybe pass his hands through Lance’s feathers distractedly for a few seconds before sending him off, saying that he really didn't have the time right now. Pidge didn't even relax her wings around him anymore.

Lance stroked his blue-tinted feathers a bit harder, forcing himself back to reality.

They were going on a mission. Right. He couldn't let himself be distracted because he was missing a tiny bit of human contact. He could endure that easily.

It was Lotor who had given them the informations on the mission. It seemed to become normal as of late, and Lance didn't know if he liked it.

This time, they had to recover the quintessence research the witch and some druids had done. and encrypted in an old Altean technology. Too much of the mission was relying on magic, as most of the team would be mobilized to protect Allura. Of course, this recovery mission had to be on a very dangerous platform, guarded at every corner by sentries. Of course.

If it wasn't for the fact that Lotor actually _needed_ Voltron to protect himself, Lance would have thought he was trying to get them killed. The worst was that everyone agreed to it, without considering the colossal danger of it all. All of this because the _Prince_ had managed to seduce Allura, for reasons he couldn't quite figure out. Somehow, she was convinced it would bring Voltron’s cause forward.

His feathers puffed up in irritation, as Lotor started giving out more instructions on how to proceed inside the base. His voice was so annoying. He was so full of himself.

Shiro sent him a pointed look, his own black and white feathers puffing up in return. He would _not_ be happy if Lance made any kind of remarks.

It was weird, how Shiro had distanced himself recently. Lance knew he could still trust him.They would still joke around their wings being from a similar species but... the man was troubled, and it made him irritable.

Maybe Lance could suggest a friendly preening session? He kind of missed having Shiro’s fingers between his feathers, when they were preening, just the two of them.

He had often caught Shiro's wings edging near his, as if Shiro wanted to cover him with them.

It wasn't time for preening-thoughts, unfortunately.

Plus, he didn't want Shiro to be disappointed with him. He forced his feathers down, clasping the wings tight against his body.

That was right. He had to concentrate on the mission.

 

* * *

 

It would be easy, apparently. Sneak in, sneak out. Lance would even have a conveniently placed sniper's nest. He would just have to shoot down the patrols that came too close to the big, hangar-like, room his team had to search. So just... look around and protect his team. Nothing unusual.

It would be a smooth mission. Easy.

No problem.

Lance shuddered. It still didn't ease any of his worries. He couldn't imagine how Hunk, who would be with Shiro and Allura while they  retrieved the data, was feeling right now. The three of them would be at the most dangerous position, relying entirely on Pidge and his protection. It would be fine though. He held onto that thought.

"Everyone in position?" Shiro whispered, Allura and Hunk close by his side.

"Ready." Pidge replied, as the automatic doors closed in the background.

She had made it to the control room.

If Lance was supposed to ensure the team's long-range protection, Pidge was there to ensure the whole team’s. Everything would be alright. They were an awesome team. They always had been, and were only getting better.

"Roger that!", Lance whispered back, adjusting his grip on his bayard. He always made sure he was properly handling it, especially when doing jobs like these. Although getting the perfect grip on his weapon had become second nature by now.

He breathed in. Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine... It didn't prevent Lance from wishing his mom was there, to pass a calming hand in his hair and down his feathers. She always managed to get the cramps of stress out  of his wings.

Whatever, he would have to deal with the stress.

He settled with his weapon, slowly breathing out to stabilize his rifle. He had a flock to protect.


	2. Chapter 2

So far, the mission was going smoothly. 

More or less. 

Hunk, Allura and Shiro hadn't encountered any sentries when they left. Or when they entered one of the numerous rooms in the huge hangar. Not any functional ones. If they did, Lance was quick to shoot them down, or Pidge would manage to alter their program from the control room, redirecting the approaching robot elsewhere.

So far, so good.

However, Pidge hoped they would find the correct room and start working on getting the data  _ soon. _ The lack of deadly danger, in a high-security base, made her extremely nervous. She didn’t enjoy being this separated from her team. What if they needed her and she couldn’t get to them in time?

One thing that puzzled her, was the lack of labels and cameras in the rooms of the targeted hangar. How could a dangerous, research base  _ not _ have cameras? It only made sense they would want to make sure that everything was in order? What kind of researches didn’t label their equipment or experiments? Finding and correlating information must have taken ages around here.

She hurriedly wrote down a code on the pad after spotting sentries going toward the hangar. She clicked her teeth a bit while her virus got uploaded, worried she would be too late. As soon as the purple lights in the robots flashed a faint blue she relaxed. She had made it in time. The robots were already changing route.

On any of the less-endangering, almost usual missions, Pidge would have felt a smug wave of satisfaction at her handiwork. She was one to admire, not to be humbled by the utility of her creations. Right now, the fact that Lance  _ still _ had to shoot down sentries she couldn't hack in time, made her flip her wings in annoyance and maybe a little concern. She was pretty sure, that if her hands hadn’t been busy they would be running through her green feathers, plucking some of them.

It was a bad habit she had developed, along with her mother, when they had learned that their family had "died" in space, because of a "pilot error".

Thankfully for Pidge, when she became part of Voltron, Lance would come around to pester her about proper wingcare and begin preening her. Sometimes, he would bring all his wingcare bottles, to make sure her wings were pristine. It had slowly eased her out of her bad habit. She didn’t like admitting it, at least not out loud, but she enjoyed seeing her wings so pretty in the mirror.

_ "I would have begun preening you waaaay back at the Garrison _ ,” Lance told her once as he straightened her messy feathers. “ _ But back then, I didn't know you were just a very grumpy Gremlin, hyper-focused on work, so I didn't dare approach you." _

He had been rewarded with a flap of her wings in the face, followed by a smug look. He had deserved that one.

She distantly thought about how she didn't mind having Lance taking care of her like that, while observing the sentries she hacked flashing blue and changing direction.

It had calmed her down. Before they had found Matt, the care Lance took with her wings, reminded her in a good way of her brother. It had and still was reassuring her when Lance came to clean her wings.

Flipping one of her wings to straighten a feather, she realized it had been a while since they got those small moments. She missed them.

She pressed the button to send the virus, just as Shiro's voice rang in the intercom. "We found the room. Stay alert."

Two grunts of agreement sounded from Hunk and Allura's helmets and a low hum from Lance’s.

A yellow dot activated on Pidge's visor, meaning Hunk had started recording. He was acting as a camera link to the team for Pidge. She placed the small screen next to Lance's transmission, which showed him shooting down some robots.

The feed was acting more as a safety check than anything else in this case. Pidge was glad she had modified and installed that little addition to their helmets. With the help of Hunk, of course. She wouldn't have done it as fast, if Hunk hadn't already broken down and rebuilt his helmet. He knew exactly where to add the extra assets.

More sentries flashed blue. Small victories. Now she only had to hope they would add up and make it a general victory.

Lance shot two more sentries with a terrifying accuracy. Then, not even a few seconds later, one more at the other end of the room.

She had to speed up her hacking. So many more robots were heading her Team's way. It was as if they had picked up on their little game. It didn't make sense though. They were robots. They couldn't pick up on their programming's alteration. She hunched closer to the screen, hands firing off.

It didn't prevent her from shooting worried glances at her teammates' transmissions between her hacking.

Even though she was faster than ever, Lance had quite obviously needed to increase his number and frequency of shots.

Allura, on Hunk's screen, had started glowing blue. Pidge hoped she would transfer the data fast enough. The Green Paladin almost missed a key while writing the code, making her heart speed up dangerously. She really didn't like how the situation was going at the moment. She was certain she would  _ hate it _ if it became any worse.

She heard a sound come from the corridor she had secured earlier. That was weird. A glance at her teammate's screens showed that they still all were together. That meant the noise in the corridor could only be enemy. It was impossible, though. She had set up electronic barriers that would send any sentries away. She clicked her teeth together again before warning Lance he might have more targets, for an unknown amount of time, in a hushed tone.

"Be safe." He grunted in agreement.

Pidge's face was grim. "Can't make promises."

She switched to the corridor's camera - the ones she had to install with the barrier - to locate the enemy. Could it be an actual, alive, Galra soldier?

It couldn't be. Lotor had specifically told them the Witch didn't trust  _ anyone _ with her research, and it only a handful of Druids was allowed on the base. There was supposed to be a heavy reinforcement of sentries, and that was it.

As the camera's feed appeared, Pidge blanched, wings curling up tighter than they ever had against her back. Lotor had  _ not _ warned them against that.

Some kind of huge sentry was walking toward the control room. A mix of flesh and machine, glowing purple at times. Some kind of mini robeast prototype. Its feet were making heavy, stomping noises with each step it took. Pidge could hear them fading into earshot.

She shook herself back into action. Pidge jumped on her keyboard and started typing away. That thing was part robot. If she could get its energy signature, hopefully, she'd come up with a plan to reprogram it,  _ before _ he reached any closer to the control room's door.

Finding the energy signature was the easy part. She pinged it on the Team’s shared maps, making it a  brighter and bigger purple dot than the usual sentries ones. From the corner of her eye, as she tried to think - and think  _ fast _ \- of a code to hack that thing, she saw Shiro look over the map.

"Pidge, what is that. It's too close to you. Do you need help?" Shiro asked, worry lacing in his tone.

Pidge was unsure. "Allura" She finally whispered. "How much longer will it take before you're finished?"

The footsteps dragged closer and closer. She still hadn't managed to hack through its robotic parts yet. It was like she couldn't find them, as if they were made of flesh.

"I'm almost reaching the half of the extraction."   
  
The Green Paladin nodded, even though she knew nobody could see her do so. The thing's steps kept getting louder and then, when she could hear them behind the door... they stopped. Clicks and gurgles of chemicals were the only things that could be heard through the metallic frame. It was there.

She held in her breath, wings quivering close to herself. Maybe it would go away and she wouldn't have to care about it anymore. She distantly registered her teammates, specifically Shiro, calling out to her.

She heard something scrape slowly against the door. It wanted in.

"Shiro... I need your help." She squeaked out. She shuffled to put back her equipment inside her armor's bracelet before crawling under the desk. She was making herself as small as she could. She knew it wasn't the brightest idea. However, from the cameras, she could tell the monster was easily the same size as the door frame. If it got in, she would never be able to pass through and flee. She would  _ have _ to fight it if she didn't hide.

Plus, if that thing was dumb enough to have troubles opening a handprint-locked door, maybe it would be dumb enough to forget about looking under the desk as well. Or it would give up on the door and go away.

Pidge started to wonder. How did she not notice the presence of such a thing before? She had found its energy signal pretty easily.. Why hadn’t it shown up before? More importantly, how did it find her like this? So easily? There was no way it would have known to come directly to this room, without knowing she was there. There were around 6 other doors in the corridor. She had secured each one of them. Making it even harder for sentries to eventually find her, if they somehow did make it past her barriers. Why come for her anyway? The others would have been easier to take down. They were out in the open.

The door swooshed open. The heavy footsteps started their lazy rhythm again, going straight toward the desk.

Her wings were now quivering extremely hard, as she forced herself to keep them still. Unsuccessfully.

It kept coming toward her.

It was coming closer.

Just like earlier with the door, it had stopped right in front of the desk, it's deformed legs visible from her hiding spot. Pidge nearly slammed herself against the bottom panel of the desk, trying to scurry away. She had to stay calm. Panicking would definitely not help in this kind of situation. She wasn't even sure if the thing would be articulate enough to get under the desk. Nor if it would notice her.

Nevertheless, she couldn't hide there hoping for something that might not happen either. If she had to fight, would it be distracted by a hologram of herself? Would it make any difference immediately?

She readied her bayard. Maybe electrocuting it would stun it? She could then run away and join Shiro.

Shiro! Where was he? He had said he would come. She glanced at the map at her wrist, checking the black dot's position on the screen. He wasn’t moving. He stayed still in one of the corridors, midway between the hangar and her position.

The thing moved. She tensed.

She suddenly got blinded by purple glowing eyes crouching down her face with a speed she wished the thing didn't have. She reacted on instinct, and shoved her bayard up its face, letting off electricity in it. It stopped moving. She had stunned it.

Pidge immediately kicked the ground to launch herself away through the crack of the desk and the monster. She had to put distance between  _ it _ and her. Evaluate the possibilities. Try to check for an eventual weak spot, before going off to join Shiro. If she couldn't join him right away, she could stall long enough for him to join her. Two against an unknown enemy was safer than one.

She passed next to the monster, opening her wings once they wouldn’t hit the monster’s massive frame, so she could launch herself further away.

She never managed. Her calf got wrapped in a giant, metallic hand, and her right wing in another, just as painful, flesh hand.

Next thing she knew, she had been flung across the room, and only her wings broke the painful fall. One of them had just broken, resonating with a morbid crack.

She screamed in pain, trying to curl up, both her wings tight.

When only one of them did react, she desperately tried to grab the feathers of the broken wing to make it  _ move _ . She instantly regretted her decision. It didn't lessen the pain. Exclamations of worries from her teammates sounded off in her helmet. But she could only muster gasps and whimpers.

The thing stood up again, turning to face her. It resumed its slow, heavy pace.

Pidge was terrorized. What  _ was _ that thing?!

She weakly stood up, whining when she felt her broken wing dangle limply off her back, dragging on the ground. She wouldn't get anywhere like this. She had to fly away. Or at least run. But if she wasn't careful she was going to step on her primaries and rip them off. Those wouldn't be pleasant to grow back. Not only would it take time, but it would be painful as well. She'd also be grounded for as long as it would take them to grow. Maybe... maybe she could slow the monster down somehow? So she could safely get out of the room... As safely as this situation could get.

She noticed that Shiro's dot had started moving again. She would join him, they would go back to the hangar, gather the team, pray that Allura was done with the data collecting and get the  _ hell _ out of this place. She didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary.

She raised her bayard, ready to strike the monster with her long-range attack. Hopefully, it'd make a dent in the monster. Or it would stumble over the cable and fall. But her bayard had to at least hit the monster. She could electrocute it again, and use that time to flee. It seemed like a solid plan. She aimed her bayard at the monster, and put her plan into action.

As soon as the electricity shot through the monster, she retracted her bayard to a passive form. The thing didn't even looked shocked, or even bothered. It kept taking steps toward her.

Pidge was at loss of what to do. She didn't dare move. It was coming closer, and she could do nothing.

That's when Shiro came through the door. He probably shouldn't have yelled her name, her real name, when he saw her, but he did. The monster turned around, purple eyes blinking in assessment.

Shiro got down to a fighting position, his Galra arm already glowing brightly as he flung himself at the monster to start the fight.

Pidge tried to straighten herself, following the fight. She had to help somehow, but in her current state, doing like Shiro and headbutting right into the monster would be useless. She had to think strategically, analyze the situation.

The monster was a mangled mass of flesh and metal. Seeing the pumps and tubes flowing everywhere, it looked like it was some kind of prototype of a greater experiment. Noting the syringe-like tubes sticking out of the monster's body made Pidge think of the prison warden in Beta-Traz.

That was it! Quintessence was being pumped into it! They just had to cut off the reservoirs!

This is where she would strike, then. She ran forward, careful of her wing.

Shiro was keeping the monster distracted, giving her have a great opening to strike. She activated her bayard, electrified it and slammed it in its pumps, right in time for Shiro to move to the monster's sides and cut off the dangling tubes. The monster fell to the ground, convulsing and making sounds that would probably haunt them both for a while... before it stopped moving altogether. They were left a panting mess.

As soon as they were sure the monster was  _ dead  _ for good, they turned to each other. They looked at each other's injuries for a few seconds before Pidge opened her mouth, always first to ask questions. "How did your arm get into that state?"

Shiro took hold of his wounded, human arm, before replying. "It was from the other... thing in the corridors. I couldn't figure out how to beat it right away. It had kind of the same arm as me... it kind of threw me off?" The Black paladin seemed lost in his thoughts for a while, thinking back on what that could mean for his arm. Was it tested? How was it created? He only remembered the pain of getting it and nothing else.

On her side, Pidge's whole body shuddered, making her whimper once more when the shiver reached her broken bone.

Shiro shook himself out of his thoughts and concentrated on Pidge again. He had to check her injuries better, but when he approached her, she stopped him by putting her hand flat on his chest. "You're telling me... there is  _ more _ than this one."

The Black Paladin was silent for a few seconds, realizing what it could imply, before he nodded slowly. There had indeed been more than one. When he fought it, he thought he'd never manage to get to Pidge in time.

She straightened, opening her wrist pad. She let Shiro shift the broken wing in her armor, to try to keep it away from the ground, so she would be able to move without the risk of losing any feathers. He muttered several apologizes when she whimpered through her teeth, and put a comforting wing on her shoulder as he worked the injury out. It was definitely a bad job, but it would do the trick until they reached the Castle. As soon as they got back, they would shove her into a pod.

Pidge, through her tears, tried to get to work, having to stop frequently when Shiro handled her wing a bit too roughly. She took the energy signature of the monster they just fought, working out a small code that would analyze the whole base, for anything close to the signature. If there were any more monsters like those, they would be able to see them with this.

Once Shiro was finally done and her wing was painfully tucked against her back, she hit the enter button.

Suddenly, the screen filled up with tons of the purple points. There seemed to be a huge concentration of them in a  room further in the base. It hadn’t even registered on the map they got thanks to the Blue Lion. Some of them were going out of it. They were all walking as slowly as the one they just had brought down. At first, the creatures seem to be spread in a chaotic mess, until they realized most of them were headed one particular place.

The hangar their Team was in.

Shiro and Pidge exchanged glances, lips dry. With a curt nod, they took off in the corridors, avoiding the purple dots on the map like the plague. They were trying to find their way back to their Team as fast as possible.

In the end, they arrived at the big hangar quite easily, only having to slice through a few pairs of sentries. The ground of the hangar was filled with the debris of blasted robots. Most of them had a single burn mark, that went through their head. A quick look up assured them that Lance was still covering their back, and didn't seem to look tired. At least if he was, he didn't show it. The incoming flux of sentries had been proven to be a tough challenge for him. He could only shoot so fast. Hunk had had to activate his bayard, blasting any robots that dared come too close to the room with heavy guns.

"Guys, finally!" Hunk cried out in relief. "Allura is nearly done but she keeps sweating buckets- I don't think she feels so good-"

"Hunk I am  _ just. fine. _ " Allura huffed with a throaty voice. She didn't feel fine, quite obviously. The amount of magic she was using was putting an obvious strain on her. Still, she forced herself to complete her duty first. She always did. Sometimes to the point of exhaustion. They would have to let her rest as much as possible  once they would be back to the Castle.

"Where the hell were you guys, we were worried!" Lance butted in, before quieting down suddenly, focusing back on the waves upon waves of sentries coming in.

They had realized intruders had penetrated the base and were coming in guns blazing. It made them only more dangerous with multiple gunshots flying. But if it had been somewhat manageable for only Lance and Hunk, then it would be a walk in the park with the whole team.

Pidge brought up her map, next to Hunk, as Shiro started helping the fight by slicing through enemies. Both of them were a little bit stiff from their injuries. "The purple dots on the map-" Pidge began before being pushed aside by the Yellow Paladin, who took a shot for her. Luckily in the back of his chest plate. "The purple dots are some sort of alive robeasts! They're beginning to crawl everywhere we're never going to manage to take them down!"

Shiro glanced over the map as he took steps away from Pidge, and gasped slightly. One of those purple dots was approaching too close to their Blue one on the map. He turned to Lance instantly. "Lance!  _ Move! _ "

Shiro saw the Blue Paladin hiccup, lowering his weapon before whirling into the air, his blue and yellow wings snapping right open. Some smoke was coming off his wings. A giant purple laser lit up the space Lance had been laying down on a few seconds before. Shiro observed him glide down shakily, if not a little too fast. He would have to check on Lance. Later. He first had to protect his wounded teammates from the sentries.

"Oh my god, they shoot lasers!" Hunk panicked, his blasts were increasing, losing a bit their accuracy, but still being deadly. The Yellow Paladin shot a worried glance at his friend. "Pidge, you didn't tell me they could shoot lasers! Why didn’t you tell me they could do that-"

"I didn't know, okay?! We need to get out of here!" Pidge screamed, wings twitching, and breath shortening each time they did. She was starting to feel light-headed, the pain in her broken wing making her see white spots. "Allura! Are you done?!"

Shiro kept his attention on Lance, who had just managed a painful-looking landing. He stayed down on the ground for some time, knee down. He was still shooting sentries, but seemed obviously in pain. Shiro had to go check on him-

Two panicked screams resonated behind him, causing Shiro to turn. Allura was collapsed on the ground, muttering she had done it, before losing consciousness. She was sweating heavily, even with their lack of knowledge about magic, they knew it wasn’t good thing. Shiro moved to carry her at best, despite the deep wince he felt as pain traveled his human arm. Her giant wings didn’t help with the process.

A door opened as more sentries flooding in. In the distance, Shiro could see a few glowing purple eyes.

It was their cue. The Black paladin ordered them all to retreat, taking a few steps forward.

He had to avoid a sentry. It made him internally panic at the fact he had to protect someone unconscious as well now. Especially since Allura’s wings made her larger than he was. She could be shot at any time. The robot fell right in front of him, head blasted. He looked back to see Lance standing, smirking at him, but unable to mask the frown of pain on his face.

Lance was relatively okay, that was good. He had their back. It always reassured Shiro to know that their Sharpshooter was there to protect them. He would definitely go check on Lance's wings, maybe get a preening session with him, once they'd be back.

They had to get back first.

They started moving, Pidge stiffly cutting through the sentries coming from the front, protecting Shiro and Allura as much as she could. Hunk and Lance kept covering their back, where the most of the sentries were coming from.

Once they neared the Lions, there were no sentries in front of them and they started running toward the Lions. It was their sole goal. They would get back to the Castle, stick most of them into a pod and call it a day. Then they would get some well-deserved flock time. It seemed like ages ago since they did anything fun together.

Shiro could see Blue flickering to life as he approached. He spread his wings, trying his best to support both his weight and Allura's, whose wings were as heavy as they were large. He propelled himself toward Black, taking the Princess with him, to secure her inside. He saw the Blue Lion follow her Paladin and he just knew the mechanical beast would follow them back to the Castle.

He spotted Red coming up to life, in a defensive position - Lance was always ready to protect them no matter what. Yellow also had taken a step forward after he saw Hunk fly his way up to it, to put himself in front of Pidge, who took a bit more time to climb into Green due to her damaged wing.

All the lions were set to go.

Without any further ado, Shiro made Black turn around, and the team flew back to the Castle.

They quickly arrived and rushed to the medbay. All of their conditions had worsened. Pidge had passed out in her Lion due to pain. Borderline hyperventilating Hunk had to carry her out while his back was starting to hurt more than ever. Allura was sweating just as much as before and felt like she was burning. She still hadn’t woken up. Shiro had the hardest of time carrying her out, as his arm had taken a sickening shade of blue and purple, the open wound looked anything but good.

Coran met them halfway, having already prepared the pods - thanks to communications - and helped him carry the Blue Paladin. Once she was laid down on the table to be dressed in the pod's suits, the Royal Advisor distantly looked over the team's injuries.

His massive wings twitched, and he turned to the Black Paladin, who was helping Hunk ease Pidge down.

"Shiro. Where is Lance?" Coran asked.

Shiro looked up and around the room. Lance wasn't with them? Didn't he get out of his Lion? Had he passed out like Pidge? They didn't hear much from him when leaving the base.

He saw Lance's helmet video feed still activated. He opened it to link his visor to it. He had seen Red come back to the Hangar. Lance probably had taken more time to calm down from the mission, or had passed out. He had fought a great deal in there.

"Lance" The Black paladin called. "Is everything alright?"

There was only static on his screen for a while.

Worry started pooling in Shiro's guts. Was Lance injured worse than he thought? Shiro started pacing toward the door, ready to go in Red's hangar to check on Lance.

The video feed connected.

Blue-armored hands were clawing at the ground. Sentries were everywhere holding him at gunpoint. Shiro saw the hands tremble and shake. Some blue feathers passed in front of the camera.

No.

Lance looked up from his position, just as a Galra Cruiser arrived in the hangar their Lions had previously been in. The sentries parted slightly, but held their weapons toward the Red Paladin.

_ No. _

The ship opened, more sentries came out from it. A figure emerged that made the ice-cold fear that pooled in Shiro’s stomach shoot right up to his heart. A purple-cloaked figure walked slowly down from the ship, and approached Lance. A druid. As Lance looked up to the masked figure, the transmission got cut off.

_ Lance had never left the base. _


	3. Chapter 3

"Lance! Move!"

Lance looked up sharply, before hearing a very blaster-like sound charging up right behind him. He instantly activated his jetpacks, not even trying to see what  _ was _ behind him.

He groaned sharply when he felt part of his wings burn from the jets. He had been too cramped to spread them in time, too stressed from the number of bots he had to take care of. He hoped his feathers wouldn't be too badly damaged. He flapped them a few times in a hurry, trying to gain altitude.

As soon as he did, the charging blast shot off. It was pinker than most of the Galra creations they had witnessed. It also had shot right where he previously stood on the platform.

_ What the hell was that?! _

That was definitely not just some dumb Galra soldier that had sneaked up on him!

Nevermind the little burns on his feathers, Lance thought as he shakily glided down, unable to keep proper balance due to the cramps and quivers of fear that ran through his wings. If he hadn't moved out the second Shiro asked him to, he would have been pulverized! He had been a few meters over the beam and he still had felt its heat radiating!

Of course, the situation  _ had _ to become even more problematic because of his stupidity. Not only did he had troubles gliding down, but he got distracted by the burnt feeling in his feathers, enough to land badly. He fell knee down to the ground, groaning as pain reverberated in the integrity of his lower back. It  _ hurt _ .

He had to keep focus.

Flicking his wings around to shake the annoying feeling in them, he straightened back and started to shoot at the bots that attempted to approach him. The team had no time to spare. They had to fight and get out of there. The dots on Pidge had updated on the map were nothing but troubles. If they came any closer they would be in a serious predicament.  _ Especially _ if Shiro, Pidge and Allura were injured.

He wasn't sure he and Hunk would be able to efficiently cover the Team's back and slow down the enemies, but they sure would try it. He could ignore the pain in his legs, and the burn in his ruffled wings. Just like he knew Hunk would leave his hurt back and his nervous breakdown for later. At least for the time, it took to get them all to safety. He finally stood back up, assessing the situation as fewer sentries were crowding on him.

Shiro had just gathered an unconscious Allura in his arms, Hunk was shooting around to the furthest sentries, getting few hits back. Pidge was typing up her codes to try to hack some doors shut. She was looking more and more unfocused though. Her wing really didn’t look good. He would need to shoulder to whole Team's safety, as most of them except for him were badly hurt. So far, Lance thought he was doing good, he just had shot some soldier that came toward Shiro and took on protecting both Hunk and Pidge.

They started moving. It was apparently time to  _ finally _ get out of this place. Lance couldn't feel gladder. It meant that making cover fire would be harder for him though. Shooting while running asked a little bit more practice. 

Thankfully, Lance had had plenty of time to practice. Especially lately.

Besides, the ones he couldn't take off were ruthlessly obliterated by Hunk's bayard.

Lance observed Pidge from the corner of his eyes, as she moved to the front of the group. She may have been injured - it really didn't look nice - but she still had the energy to spare, alternating between hacking distant sentries and destroying the ones that got too close with her weapon.

They got close to the hangar. They only had to take a few more strides and their Lions would be in view. They had to keep going for just a bit longer. Not much. That was doable. Lance kept shooting some sentries jogging backward as he did, before turning back into a sprint to follow his team.

Or... would have followed his team. They weren't behind him anymore. They were all running straight for the Lions, not caring much for the sentries left behind anymore. Or the fact said sentries were much closer to him.

Lance panicked. He had to get back to his Team! He needed to be close so he could climb into Red and not have to fight off the sentries with only a bayard.

The robots, however, barred his way. Lance was fast to shoot them down, but they never seemed to stop coming. One step forward meant two more sentries. Soon enough, he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of sentries that were steadily surrounding him.

Before soon, one of his wings was shot.

He cried out in pain, stumbling forward. He had to reach Red.  _ Come on! _

Gritting his teeth, he found back a steady position. He could do it. He was killing those bots every day. It would be easy to get there. He would do it. He shot a few more, barely managing to make a breakthrough. Barely. Even if it was at a much slower pace, he was still going forward.

Red came into view. His Lion was already awakened, taking a defensive stance, as if she was ready to pounce on the enemy for her Paladin. The others, however, hadn’t noticed his predicament. As soon as he took the first step into the room, the rest of his Team took off.

"Guys, I'm still down here!" Lance yelled.

No Lion came back. They hadn’t heard him. Red was still waiting for him though. He could still reach her. He was almost there. He could do it. He kept shooting the robots around him.

Heavy, slow footsteps began to ring behind him. They were deafening, almost covering the bots and gunshots. No doubt it was the thing that had attacked them earlier. Or at least, one of them. Adrenaline started pumping more than ever in Lance's veins. He was one bot away from Red. He shot it down.

Lance spread his wings. They were damaged but would do the trick long enough to reach Red's jaw. Plus, the jetpack boost would be a great help. Lance took off, flapping his wings, taking altitude. As he was going to activate his jetpack, however, one of the sentries shot him right into it, making it explode instead. The explosion, however small it was, was incredibly painful, but still propelled him forward. He pushed through the pain, keeping his burnt wings open.

Red was right there. He could practically touch her with his fingertips-

Something grabbed his leg. Midair. As he turned to see what exactly could manage that, he saw the beast of flesh and machine, an arm strikingly similar to Sendak’s squeezing its claws into his leg. Then he registered how fast the ground was coming toward him. 

The air in his lungs was knocked out by the impact. The world dulled. His ears were ringing, every single one of his senses was a blur.

 

When he saw clearly again, he was being dragged on the metal floor. Red was still ready to attack, but felt unsure. If she did attack, her beam would be just too wide and would hit him as well. The robots went to the side, to shut the hangars doors. It took a few seconds to Lance to understand why.

They were going to trap Red in here with him. 

_ No! _ He would never let the Galra touch her with their filthy hands! Not again.

"Red!" He yelled, voice cracking under the panic that ripped through his throat. "Go with the others!"

She didn't budge. Her eyes felt like they were going back and forth between her Paladin and his enemies. She couldn't attack. She couldn't leave her Paladin behind either. She would never leave her Paladin behind.

Lance heard the same blaster charge from earlier behind him. 

The pink hues illuminated and almost burnt his back and wings off as the beam shot through the hangar. Straight toward Red. The beam hit true, and his Lion stumbled over. Lance could  _ feel _ how most of her energy had been drained with just this one shot.

Terror pooled in his guts. He yelled at Red again, for her to move away. But she just kept looking at him. She didn't want to leave him. Although she wouldn't be able to take another shot like that one either. More sentries surrounded Lance.

The Lion stood up weakly, opening her jaw to fire back. However, Lance could already hear the mechanical clicks and charge of a new laser beam. He interrupted Red's attempt at attacking. "Don't let them get you! Go back to the Castle!"

She closed her jaw. She didn't want to leave her Paladin behind. The gates behind her were slowly closing. For the first time in her long, long life... she maybe would have to leave her dearest Paladin behind. The monster’s beam shot off. Red avoided it just in time, jumping into space, right as the gates closed. She had left her Paladin behind, she could only return to the Castle. 

The beast kept dragging Lance until he was completely surrounded by sentries. Lance felt relieved his lion was safe.

He was alone, though. At the complete mercy of the enemy. He didn't understand why he wasn't dead yet. He felt a mangled foot step down on his back. It was heavy, nearly crushing. He was being kept prisoner, at gunpoint and unable to move.

It was only minutes later, when he started breathing with more ease and having most of his senses back that he knew why.

A Galra cruiser had just arrived at the base, and a lone Druid came out of it.

.

Lance had been dragged through corridors he vaguely knew the layout of. He wasn't sure. He knew that most Galra cruisers were built the same. But right now he was too hurt from the impact, and too scared to try to remember the route. The others hadn't heard him. He was alone, without Red, without his bayard that probably laid forgotten somewhere on the base. He didn't manage to calm down one bit.

Two sentries were stationed at each of his sides, carrying his weight by his arms. They also ensured he wouldn't try anything funny. If he did, they could hurt him. Even if they didn't manage, the druid was right behind him, walking soundlessly. Lance knew better than to go one-on-one against a druid. Shiro had told him enough about them.

Before soon, they arrived at a room at the very end of a doorless corridor. It was only lit by the Galra bright purple that pulsed in every ship. Trying to avoid shots here, if he did try to escape, would be difficult. There was no space to zigzag his way out, nor enough height for him to fly. Actually, he was pretty sure that if he did open his wings here, he could touch the walls with them before they were fully spread.

Shooting in a corridor like this one wouldn't even require accuracy and aiming to get him down.

One of the sentries opened the door, while the other got him inside the room. Before he could fully understand what was happening, both of them raised him off his feet. Lance jerked in surprise, snapping his wings open to instinctively find a gush of wind that would stabilize him.

Instead, he fell right back on the floor, the two sentries knocked aside by his wings. As soon as he realized what he just did, he curled them back on his back, tight. What he just did had been a mistake, a terrible one. He felt cloth brush up against him. The druid, who hadn't said a word until now clicked their tongue.

"I had forgotten how annoying those pesky things could be." Their voice was deep. Almost electronic. It only added to the creepy factor Lance held for the Druids. "Tie them up."

The sentries obeyed to the order faster than Lance could react. He got a knee holding his wings right against his back. No amount of struggling seemed to be useful against it. He brought his head down in shame, as he was being tied up without being able to fight back. The rope was laced around his whole body, burning the skin under his feathers. One of his wings twitched as he subconsciously tried to flip it out of discomfort.

Lance flinched as the sentry’s knee was brought back down, on his chest this time. He felt metal being tied up around his wrists.

He only got to hear chains on top of him, a lever being activated, and his whole body got dragged over the floor, rope digging in his body. It slowly went up. 

Lance was soon left hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. The position was mighty uncomfortable. The metal was digging through his skin. So did the rope that seemed to tighten each time he subconsciously twitched his wings.

"Very well." The druid croaked out, approaching once again, slowly raising his hands in front of him.

Lance gulped down, eyes darting around for an escape. What was going to happen to him? Was he going to die?

No. He had to stay strong for the team. He couldn’t let himself break under the enemy.

That was right. He had to do it for his team- but he was scared.

Would he make it?

His eyes locked onto the door, over the druid's shoulder. Could he manage to escape somehow? Would he? How could he get out of these handcuffs and free himself from the rope to begin with? He tried to move around to see if the restraints would be breakable. No avail. It was solid. Each struggle and twitch only served to make his wrists and wings strained. 

He had to manage someway, though!

As he inhaled to struggle again, a zap of lightning coursed through his body. All his preparation went off into a scream. Before shutting off completely. It felt like his throat was closing off. His heart was speeding up. "Don't even think of escaping this place, Paladin."

Looking up through teary eyes, Lance could see purple electricity sparkling over the Druid's hand. They spoke again. "What were you and your team doing in Lady Haggar's personal laboratory?"

Lance kept his mouth shut. He wouldn't tell.

He was scared of what the druid would do to him. Extremely so, even. But he would never tell. He couldn't tell. It would be stabbing Voltron in the back. It would be betraying his Team. It would be putting the universe in danger.

He looked away from the Druid. A few seconds later, he heard a crackling sound rip the silence apart. 

His screams resonated within the walls, electricity coursed through his body again, making him tense up against his restraints.

It stopped. Lance went slack. It felt like his shoulders were being pulled apart by the handcuffs. The ropes were digging between his feathers, feeling like they were tightening against him, making him unable to breathe. He could only breathe short gasps in.

Even if he could hear himself do so, he wasn't sure he was breathing. How long would this last? Lance didn't know how long he would endure being tortured at the hands of the druid. He would never tell. However, he didn't know how long it would take for him to be turned into a sobbing, whimpering mess. Would he stay strong?

Was he even strong?

Truth is, it didn't take much more, or long, for Lance to drop the strong paladin façade and openly cry out under the pressure. Only a few lightning bolts jolting his body, as well as a few hits from the sentries, that would make him dangle from his severed wrists.

Both his wrists and wings had started bleeding when he had tensed and struggled too much against the restraints. It was also around that time that the druid had stopped their torture, choosing a different approach to try to persuade him.

They approached him, grabbing him by the chin to force him to look up. His filthy wings and wrists weren't the only thing that had started to bleed, apparently. Mixing up with his tear-drenched face, blood had started coming out of his nose. They wiped the blood away with their thumb.

The boy flinched hard and try to get his face away. He only managed to let out a broken scream, before realizing he couldn't do anything. He was at the Druid's complete mercy.

Even if he was a gasping mess, and had troubles to breathe properly, he still hadn't talked. That was unacceptable.

The Druid clicked their tongue before assessing the human. They kept caressing his face and shoulder until their hand reached the bloodied wings. The pretty blue feathers were already starting to get brownish. How great. Seeing how he kept twitching them around and hurting himself more, the Druid could only guess that the Paladin's wings were one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

They grabbed a handful of the feathers, finding satisfaction in the way they would snap under his fingers as they broke. If only that brought satisfaction, the Druid relinquished in the way he could feel the wings tremble against the rope, the way it would make the prisoner whimper and breathe faster.

Their mood quickly turned sour, however, when the boy still refused to speak. Misplaced stubbornness, really.

"Very well." They grumbled, gesturing to the sentries for them to listen to their orders. "Go fetch the more...  _ persuasive _ tools."

Lance looked up weakly. Persuasive?  _ Tools _ ? He didn't dare open his mouth to speak. He wouldn't speak. He had promised himself he wouldn't. Not even to know what the tools were. He wasn't even sure he really wanted to know anyway. He would know soon enough. He wouldn't speak.

The sentries left him alone in the room with the Druid. Somehow, it felt like he was in even more danger. They turned back to him, hand already finding back a painful grip in his feathers.

Lance's trembling had worsened. His shoulders felt close to popping, his arms were burning up and his feathers were all wrong, both irritating and hurting him. He was sweating buckets. Breathing hurt. It felt like his lungs were going to explode. Implode?

The Druid's hand on him made the nausea he felt increase tenfold. He didn't want to be touched.

That's when he heard it again. The crackles. His hair stood up on his neck in fear and anticipation. Then here it was again. The screeching- his voice. Tasting blood on his tongue, coming right from his throat. He couldn't stop screaming. It hurt. It hurt!

_ It hurt! _

He felt dizzy. His ears were ringing. He couldn't stop sobbing. He couldn't stop uselessly breathing air in. Why didn't it stop? He wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to be over but he couldn't speak. He wouldn't speak.

The door opened, the two sentries coming back with a box of "tools" in their hands.

The Druid finally let go of his wing, to go peek into the box instead. Their hand hovered over it slightly, as if they were pondering what to pick. When they did chose, however, they came out with an odd looking pair of scissors. It seemed as if there was only one blade, the other having a round, empty shape in the middle and hugging the single blade. The druid started mumbling something at the sentries while gesturing him. The robots nodded and passed behind Lance.

Before he knew it, he fell on the ground, howling in pain as the rope dug deep in his wings, keeping the wounds fresh and open. The pain he hadn't expected, though, came from his shoulders. He had expected some kind of relief from not being suspended from his wrists anymore, not a wincing pain that spread through his entire arms to focus on his shoulders.

He couldn't stop gasping for air, having the hardest time in the world to focus back to reality. Why did it feel like the room was moving around him? He felt pressure on one of his hands. Then the voice of the Druid sounded off. "I have heard the Paladin in the Blue armor was the sharpshooter of the team. Is it any true?"

Lance looked between the Druid and the hand they were holding.

He didn't answer. Not even a nod. He wouldn't let any information come out of him. He promised himself. No matter the pain. Even if it was unbearable.

"I might just render you  _ entirely _ useless to your team, if you don't answer to my question."

They tugged hard on his hand, taking his index finger between theirs, to bring it closer to the odd scissors.

It was at that moment Lance realized what they were for. If he felt fear before, it was now an itch that was bubbling up his stomach, coming back up his throat. He couldn't breathe anymore. Not even draw pathetic gasps in like he did before. He couldn't tug on his arms to avoid having his index stuck in the circle-shaped part of the device. They were too weak from being hung. He... he didn't want this! He didn't want to lose his finger!

His chest grew heavy, and his head felt like exploding as he could barely struggle. He didn't want to!

The Druid raised the blade of the scissors high over his finger. Lance could only gurgle a whimper.

The last thing he remembered seeing before the universe turned black was the glint of metal high over his index finger, ready to cut it off.


	4. Chapter 4

When Lance woke up it took him a bit of time for the memories to come back to his mind. Once they did, however, Lance let out a strangled gasp, hands shooting up to his fingers.

He checked every single one of them carefully, starting with his index. He didn't feel any pain, but it didn't mean anything. He didn't know what the Druid was capable of. He had to check to be sure all of his fingers were in place, were properly on his hands- he could still feel the cold circles of the scissors rounding his skin, ready to chop his finger off, ready to snap the bone. He caressed each one of his fingers from the base to the top, checking every phalanx to be sure he had them all. In the end, he had still ten, complete fingers. He let out a shuddering sigh. It was a relief. He could still remember the glint of the blade seconds before it was supposed to be brought down onto his finger.

Lance checked if he had all of his fingers again.

Ten. Perfect.

Now he had to understand where he was. He sat up.

He couldn't see anything. There was not a single ray of light in the place he was held. Weird. He had to be in some sort of cell, but Lance was pretty sure that at least those would be illuminated by the sickening purple light that usually was everywhere on those ships. It didn't make any sense.

Were his eyes even open to begin with? Was he stupid enough to forget opening them?

Lance rose his hand to his eyes, before immediately flinching away from it, as it touched his opened eye. He realized two things then. One, he really was some new shades of stupid for touching his bare eye carelessly just to check if his eyelid was open, and two, he had been changed out of his armor. It had been his naked finger that had touched his eye. He could still feel the wetness of it on his fingertip. Patting around his body to check what kind of clothing he had been put into, he guessed it was the usual Galra-wear that they gave to prisoners.

... Speaking of prison, it still didn't help him knowing what kind of prison cell he was stuck into.

He tucked his wings close, pulling a face when he still felt the injuries the ropes had left behind. He passed his - entire, and not cut off - fingers through his feathers, to check if those were still whole as well.

He went down the length of his wing bone. He could feel the feathers the druid had broken and snapped. That dude really had it out for his wings. They passed an unnecessary amount of time putting their hands through his feathers. He didn't feel comfortable at all remembering this. He tried pressing down the messed up feathers in a desperate attempt to fix the damage they had been through, before going on with his check.

Lance's blood ran cold as his fingers reached his primaries. Some were broken, and, as he kept going down, his hand met emptiness far too soon. He had been clipped. He wouldn't be able to fly anymore. He wasn't whole.

He had his ten fingers, but he was stuck on the ground. He couldn't escape. He couldn't be free anymore. He wouldn't be able to fly out with his flock anymore. Not for months. If his flock came for him. They had left. They hadn't heard him call out.

Would they even find him?

He had to find a way out. There were too many chances his team wouldn't come for him. Or would not find him. Too many chances he would be back in the room with the Druid. He didn't want to go back there.

But to be able to even think of fly-... running away from this ship he had to understand where he was to begin with. He had to stand up. That he could do. They had just... they had just damaged his wings. He was sure that they were just a little bit roughed up. He didn't have to worry about them too much. He could still fly. He had heard that back on earth, where they clipped people's wings when they had to go to prison or were too dangerous for society, some of those clipped people had still been able to fly.

That's what they talked about during the pauses at the Garrison anyways. It must have been true. If dangerous criminals could still fly after being clipped- so could he. He could be dangerous, too.

Lance stood up slowly, wary of the environment he couldn't see. He couldn't tell if he was being watched or not in this cell. He seriously doubted anyone would be able to see in a cell like this. The top of his wings and his head hit the ceiling at the same time.

At least what he assumed to be the ceiling. It was as metallic as the floor. His knees were still bent down. He couldn't stand up on his full height in the cell.

Fine, the ceiling was kind of low. The rest of the cell could be just very wide. Maybe they put him in a cell for a shorter species. Aside from the Druids that were just plain creepy, he never thought the Galra were an extremely bright species. More of a kill first, ask questions to dead bodies later.

He put his hands in front of him to check out the walls. The one that was in front of where he stood was only two steps away. That wasn't... that wasn't very far. But he could have been dropped near said wall to begin with. That could make sense. He didn't have to worry about it. The other walls would be further.

He started to walk around, awkwardly keeping his hand on the wall and bumping into the ceiling with almost each steps he tried to take. Going around the cell wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Mostly due to the poor excuse of a standing position he was currently into. His neck, legs and wings were getting cramped from it.

He had barely begun his search that he was already thinking about sitting back down, where at least he could have a relatively stretched spine. He didn't back down though. He had to do it. He had to know where he was. Then escape from wherever he was stuck.

Lance didn't have to walk around for long before he found the first wall. Then the second. Then the third.

The cell was minuscule. He hadn't even recalled feeling the shape of a door or anything that wasn't smooth as the rest that could serve as a possible escape. He went around the tiny cell again, checking to see if he had missed anything. He cursed the darkness in the room, making him unable to know completely where he was and what was happening.

His second search didn't bring new informations. All four walls were completely smooth. There were no doors. Not event a dent in them. He was trapped in a perfect cube. A perfect cube devoid of light.

Lance fell to his knees, in shock. He was trapped. He hadn't just been captured. They hadn't just took him to interrogate him. They put him in a cube. They had shoved him... somewhere where there was no exit, and not even a ray of hope.

Was he even still on the Galra cruiser? He could hear engines, and rumbling so he could only guess he was. The noises outside his prison slowly got drowned out by his breath. It kept shortening more and more. Soon enough, sharp inhales were the only thing he could hear.

He started trembling. They had wanted to cut his fingers, then they shoved him here. Where was he? What was here? Did he even have all of his fingers?

He passed his hands on them. Ten.

Ten fingers. Alright. His wings were tucked close. So close. As if they were tied up again and as if he was ready to be brought back up to the ceiling to be tortured for information. His wrists hurt. Were his wings tied up? He spread them in a rush, uncaring of the pain soaring under his feathers, uncaring of the nasty hit they got when both of them reach the walls of the tiny - so, so tiny - cell he was in.

He could move. He could move his wings. They weren't bound.

But he was clipped. He couldn't fly. He wouldn't be able to fly for who knew how long. Maybe forever. He was stuck. Unable to fly and unable to stand up. In a tiny dark cell where he couldn't see.

He couldn't fully stretch here. He was trapped. He couldn't see!

Lance quickly found himself back to one of the corners, completely curled in on himself, wings tucked tight against himself. What was going to happen to him now? Would the Druid come back? Would he cut his fingers again?

He checked his fingers. Ten. Complete. His hands were whole. His wings weren't. He was trapped.

Lance quietly sobbed, trembling and quivering.

.

Terror, he found out, quickly died down when there was nothing to do.

He wasn't sure of how much time had passed before he calmed down, though. It had felt like Eternity. He hadn't seen anything in all that time. Not even one purple glint of a face or clothing back to ask him questions. He wasn't sure why either. Actually, he wasn't sure of anything. Except for one thing : the food he was given was disgusting. Far beyond Coran-cooking level of disgusting. He wasn't sure where it came from though. It seemed like it magically appeared in the room. So far, he had been fed three times.

Lance guessed he could consider himself lucky enough to even get food in this hellhole of a place.

Nevertheless, three small meals, when he already had spent Eternity in the cell felt like too little. His stomach, on the first few times of Eternity had felt like a hollow void. The worst, though, was still the darkness he never had left. Not one sparkle of light.  
It didn't mean he couldn't see anything anymore, oh no.

Sometimes, a deformed face would pop out from the darkness, right in front of him. They were never the same, but the one thing they had in common was their smile. They always were smiling at him. Never a good smile though. It was intimidating.

Lance always did his best to avoid the faces' eyes when they appeared. It was hard to, most of the time. They usually would follow his eyes wherever he tried to look. Even if he did close his eyelids, they would remain into view. Then they would disappear, leaving Lance to stare off alone in the darkness.

If he was even staring. At some point, he started doubting his eyelids were open in the first place. Blinking - if he did blink, he wasn't sure - never helped assuring him he actually had had his eyes opened.

The lack of sight had led him to other kind of doubts, too. His fingers. Were they even all there? If he couldn't see them, he could maybe have been hallucinating that he had all of his fingers. So, if he didn't have much to do - and he didn't have anything to do - he would count them. Over and over. How could he be sure he had all of his fingers if he didn't count them? He had to count them. At least until he could see them again.

Plus, it was the most entertaining distraction he found to have when the faces didn't want to stop looking at him with their glowing dark eyes. He would start counting his fingers until the ten numbers didn't mean anything to him anymore. Especially when the faces started moving forward after longer in the Eternity. When they tried to touch him.

They never did touch him, thankfully. They always disappeared in the darkness first.

Prolonged eye-contact with the faces always made Lance more anxious than he should have been. He couldn't help but think that maybe one of them was behind him. Ready to pounce on him. Grab him. Touch his wings. Grab his feathers like the Druid did.

Cut more of them. Maybe cut into the flesh of them.

Only thinking about his feathers made his wings flip in discomfort. He had hardly preened himself. He had more than the time to do it though. He just didn't. He wasn't sure why either. He was sure of nothing. The preening he'd do wouldn't even be of quality. He couldn't see what was happening with his wings- he didn't even want to see the state his beautiful blue and yellow feathers were in. He could hardly spread his wings without them bumping into walls. It was forcing him to stay curled up. His body was getting sore from the position he couldn't move from. Besides, he wasn't sure he would like to feel his missing primaries again. He preferred not to touch his wings. If he pretended everything was alright, it would be. He would just keep counting his fingers.

However, even if he was unsure of everything, he wasn't helpless ; he had come up with a plan.

He knew the food he ate was real. The aftertaste it left for some time of Eternity was enough proof of that. It had to come from somewhere. He knew he had checked everywhere only to find himself in a smooth cube. But that was when he hadn't had food.

If managed to know how the food arrived, then he would have chances to get out. The major flaw of his plan was actually waiting for the food. He didn't know when it came. Or if there was any kind of pattern to the way the food was coming. He didn't think there was though. However, if food was any indication, he couldn't have been trapped down there for long. Probably. It still felt like Eternity.

.

Staring out in empty darkness for Eternity could have its perks. He got to hear stuff better. He could hear the engine purring, sometimes the whole place would tremble and Lance assumed the cruiser was getting in a fight. It always won, as the purring of the engine kept going afterwards. One time, only once, he got to hear a voice yelling out orders. He had been so surprised he didn't register what it was saying.

Actually, he started wondering if he had hallucinated the voice at all or not after a few times in Eternity.

The fact that he had calmed down so much his body and mind were almost in a lethargic state helped getting to hear what was going on around him as well. Actually, his heart only sped up when the Faces showed up. But it was alright. They would leave as soon as he would escape Eternity and see his fingers again.

Over the rumbling of the ship’s engines, he got to hear a series of mechanical clicks going all around above him. He looked up toward the noises, fairly aware he still couldn't see anything. He would have the merit to have tried to see something, whatever happened. Because something had definitely happened, and if it was food, maybe he was saved.

He approached the noises, keeping his hands in front of him, letting them slide around the floor to find anything unusual. He felt it. The bowl of food... well... 'food'. The thing he had to stomach to survive and make it out of here, if he ever wished to see his flock again. It was there. That meant he could look for where it came from.

He stood up, feeling slightly weak in the legs, and reached for the ceiling.

Or where the ceiling would have been.

For the first time since Eternity, Lance could fully stand up, spine straight.

Sure, his wings still had to be curled tight against his body- it's not like they would be useful since he had been clipped - but the way his joints cracked when he finally stood straight never felt so good. He would never slouch again.

He counted his fingers one last time and distractedly nodded to himself as he reach the perfect number of ten. He had no more time to lose. It was time to escape. Lance planted his hands flat on the inside of the hole. It was strangely wide. It was probably from there he got in, in the first place. He couldn't just wake up to Eternity out of nowhere, after all. The Galra couldn't build stuff around an unconscious body that fast, and that good.

If he felt weak in the legs, he also felt hope in his heart. It was a chance to get out of here. A chance to go back to his flock. A chance to go back where people took care of his wings. A chance to go back where time went on. He could escape Eternity. He was going to take that chance, and never let go of it.

He pressed his hands and wings into the sides of the vent-feeling part of the ceiling to hoist himself up high enough to stick his legs in there too. He was a bit cramped in there, but he could now start climbing up.

He would never have thought he would be able to do this. At least not before Voltron. There he was though, giving impulses with his useless wings and limbs on the wall to go up. To go away from Eternity. For a short moment, he felt like a spy in the movies he used to watch with his siblings as a kid.

He had no idea where he was headed. Nor if he would ever reach the end of the Darkness. To him, it was only one more thing he was unsure of. It was better than being sure he would stay inside Eternity, alone, for the rest of his life. Going straight toward the unknown would always better than staying inside Eternity.

He liked to think he was midway to his destination, too. He didn't know for how long he had been climbing, nor how long he still had to climb. The unknown could be scary, but Lance didn't want to let it bring down his morale. He just had not to think of how deep he would fall if he did let go of the walls. He wouldn't let go. Not even for the terrible need to count his fingers he had right now. Did he really have all ten of them?

He pushed them all into the wall to try to feel them and count them as he kept going up. It didn't really help. But he would manage. He would get out of there, far from Eternity, to a place he would be able to count and see all of his - remaining, if he had lost some - fingers. He would be in a place where he wouldn't fall to his likely death if he counted his fingers. He was halfway to there, definitely.

He kept going. Always up. Everything would go on smoothly. He would get out of the darkness, make sure all of his fingers were there. Probably battle a few Galra. He'd have to find his lost armor that was... somewhere on the ship, probably, contact his team, steal a ship, or maybe he would have to stall long enough for his team to come. Or take control of the cruiser. The possibilities he had once he would be out of those large vents could be infinite! Mostly revolving around fighting, of course, but if the Galra wanted to have some tea with him, he wouldn't be against it either. It seemed less likely, though. Whatever happened, out there, he had more diverse options to busy himself than he had back in Eternity.

Maybe his arms, wings, and legs were starting to grow tired from the effort. Maybe his muscles started to tremble and ache. He would get there soon though. He was halfway through. He would make it. He just had to think more positively. Maybe about the good side of it all.

He had to keep a Shiro-like mindset! Climbing up this vent was a great endurance exercise! Yeah, he could work with that. Think back of his team, what they could do together when he came back. Maybe play some more of that nerd game with Coran and Shiro. Most likely training, though. He was surprised they didn't make team trainings about vents.

Lance would have definitely complained about it if it came up, but even he had to admit that for the amount of vent-crawling they had to deal with on daily basis, they did next to no training concerning those. Especially when they had to go through the one that squeezed their wings tight on their back. He suspected that this lack of training was mostly because Shiro, Hunk and Allura were afraid they would get stuck in them. Even though both Lance and Shiro shared the same type of wing- short and lean -, Lance was much lankier. Between all of them, however, it was Pidge who was the better crawler.

Although for these particular vents he was in right now, he felt like she would have been a tad too short to grip properly on the walls and would have gotten tired even faster than he did. She was a tough cookie though. She would definitely have found a way around the problem and gotten out much faster than he was currently doing.

His arms started to tremble enough his whole body shook with them when he forced on them. He had to be there soon. He could do it. He would do it. He was halfway through.

He almost fell all the way back down to Eternity when he reached his hand up and roughly hit something blocking his way.

Impossible. He couldn't be closed off here either, right?

This couldn't be just another part of Eternity. How would the food even get to him in the first place if it was?! He shifted his weight to his trembling limbs to free his useless wings, whimpering slightly at the effort. His body felt even heavier this way.

He spread his wings open, trying to touch the walls on each side. Only one of them hit a wall. The other one spread wide, joints cracking loudly as it did. It felt ridiculously good for the miserable predicament he was currently in.

He wouldn't be able to keep gripping the walls much longer. He flapped his wing slowly, hitting a top but no down. He could only guess this was where the vent was going next. It was his only hope anyways. If it was, it was going horizontally. That meant his poor limbs would catch a break.

He switched the position of his legs, and gave an impulsion to propel himself into what he hoped was a vent, wings brought back tight. The last thing he would have wanted was not to pass through it because they were loose on his back.

Lance crashed heavily against the floor of the vent, panting. He immediately spread his body wide, letting his wings fall open as much as they could. He couldn't fully spread them again, but getting a stretch on the rest of his body felt wonderful, if not a little painful. He had to get used back to wide space and keeping his back straight.

He laid there blissfully for a bit. He wasn't sure how long. It was still dark around him. The time he had spent down there made him reevaluate the concept of time itself. He had to keep going. Being in this vent wasn't far away enough from Eternity. He still couldn’t see his fingers.

He slowly rose up. His limbs still hurt, unfortunately, but at least walking would be easier than climbing.

Surprisingly, he managed to stand up to his full height. Out of curiosity, he raised his hands up. They didn't go much over his head. Space allowed him to spread his wings fully behind him though. His joints cracked again and it felt heavenly. He knew he was on his own life-saving mission at the moment, but he still took the time to feel amazed at how great it felt to be rid of the cramps.

Starting to walk was also a rewarding experience. He managed to get some sensations back into his feet. If his legs didn't tremble so much and if he could see where he was headed, he would have most likely broken into a small jog just for the fun of it.

However, in this predicament, he preferred making small, careful steps.

He was right to do so, he soon realized, as the tip of his toes met the void. Even though he hadn't toppled right into it, it gave him enough of a fright he took a few steps back and fell down flat on his butt.

How comes these vents were so weird? They weren't like this, usually. He never saw such parts of the ships when they infiltrated them. And they had infiltrated many. They pretty much always kept the same layout. Did they all miss these rooms? Were there other prisoners that they had never seen because they were trapped in Eternity?

He put his back toward the void to move his wings around, checking how wide the next area was.

Turns out it was exactly like the other one, except this one could go more up. That was definitely a plus. There had also been a down, but Lance doubted pretty much he would get anywhere going back down toward the unknown. Somehow, the Darkness seemed even Darker when he looked down. It didn't mean the Darkness looked lighter if he looked up, though. He had tried to check for anything that resembled light, there was nothing. It was up he had to go. Those were his guts speaking.

He counted to ten, each number for a finger - he still had them all, he had checked a lot before getting there - and slowly reached for the opposite wall.

This would be easy. No problems. He just had not to think about the increased probabilities he had to fall down in the void because his muscles wouldn't keep up.

Once all set, Lance began a new ascension toward... the up. He hoped it would take less effort than last time. His arms were already starting to burn, as if the small pause he got walking had done nothing for them at all.

Taking less time, it did.

He started hearing the creaks and clicks of machinery being activated, similar to how it sounded like before the food got into Eternity. Before he knew it, he was slammed against something that felt like a floor.

That floor was going up. Fast. Lance would never admit how hard he screeched when his body forcefully met metal.

He quickly shut himself up, though, slamming his hands - five fingers on each - over his mouth. As a few seconds kept passing by, and nothing except going up happened, he let out a breath of relief.

If nobody had come for him already, he figured he -thankfully- didn't alert anyone.

Then he realized where he was on the ship. Well, not exactly where he was, more like what the vent was. They weren't vents at all. They were an elevator. That would be much more convenient to reach wherever this was going at the moment. It kind of irritated him a little though. If he had known it was an elevator, he would have spared the effort. He could have saved more energy for fighting the more-than-eventual Galra soldiers he would meet. He would also need the energy to run around the ship, too. Most likely around the control room. Signaling his position to the team was the priority.

With the speed this elevator was going, and the time it took to go up, Lance could tell he probably would never have managed to climb all the way up. His limbs would have given up on him sooner than later.

As he looked up to where he was brought to - was he really looking up? He counted his fingers. Ten. That meant that he was not hallucinating, right? He was really looking up. He wondered if the darkness would ever come to an end. He hoped it did. He wanted to see light again.

If he couldn't see, he would never know for sure if all of his fingers were actually there or if he kept hallucinating their presence each time. Eight... nine... ten. He wanted to be sure he was whole. Even if he knew his wings weren't anymore. Even if he was useless with those. He didn't want to leave any Lance-parts anywhere on this ship.

He wanted to go back to his flock as one whole Lance.

His hopes to see light were answered, as an extremely luminous square flashed right over his head. The color was distinctly Galra purple. It blinded him. Lance instantly groaned in pain, lowering his head and covering his eyes.

He didn't expect light to hurt him this much either. Why did it? He probably just had to get used to it. That wasn't a problem. It would just take a few more seconds. Right?

The elevator came to a full stop.

Lance, still trying to cover his eyes from the hurtful light, heard a loud gasp coming from right in front of him. A Galra, no doubt. If it had been anybody else, he would have gotten electrocuted. Or if it had been his team, they would definitely have rushed to him with worried shouts. At least he thought so. This wasn't a druid. Nor his team.

Lance would have to force himself to open his eyes, and fight his way off the ship.

He brought his hands down, barely opening his eyelids. He only had left the cursed Darkness that he was trying to get back to it. He felt pathetic. Only squinting his eyes open burnt already. The world was just a sea of blinding light. He managed to make out the shape of a shadow in it though. A large one. The Galra. He needed to take him out.

Lance hoped he wouldn't get shot, if the Galra had any weapon.

The only way to know and get out of there was to rush. That's exactly what Lance did. Part of it to hopefully be able to cover the light destroying his eyes with the big guy's shadow. Another part of it to have better chances at saving his life and getting back to his flock.

He crashed hard into the Galra. Hard enough to end up tackling him to the ground. His enemy seemed too shocked at seeing him outside Eternity to even try to defend himself, apparently. They both fell to the ground, and something clattered behind Lance. He had closed his eyelids once again, trying to preserve the little he had of sight.

It was a familiar sound. It was the Galra's gun, no doubt! He could use that to protect himself and escape!

Lance struggled with the soldier on the ground, and threw out a few punches to be sure he would stay down at least long enough for him to reach the gun. Lance got off the alien, palming at the floor in search of the weapon.

He tried using his eyes, but he wasn't sure of what he was perceiving. The light filtered already too much behind his eyelids and it hurt. He was pretty sure tears were running down his cheeks, but he wasn't going to stop and check. He couldn't check if that was true. Nor could he check if he really did have all of his fingers.

He heard shuffling behind him. The soldier was getting up.

Lance's blood ran cold, pulsing loudly behind his ears, numbing the world as he started palming the ground faster. Where was this stupid weapon already?! He cracked an eye open again, bracing himself for the pain. This time, audible tears fell to the ground as he gritted his teeth.

It hurt.

He had been able to see it. He had seen it! It was right there for him to reach! Eyes closed once again, his fingers brushed against the cool metal of the weapon, and he grabbed it. Just at the same time the Galra grabbed him by the leg to pull him away.

Lance's elbows scraped painfully against the ground when he kept the weapon close to his chest. Out- he had to get out! He tried to turn around, kicking the soldier off out of sheer panic and spread his wings suddenly, trying to bat them to wiggle away. It worked. The soldier had stumbled slightly away and he did slightly go back thanks to his wings.

He rolled on his back, and shot blindly in the direction he knew the soldier was in. He heard a grunt of pain, before feeling liquid splattering around on his body. Lance flinched, hugging the weapon tight against himself, slowly crawling away.

He had to get out of here. Find the control room.

He got up, trying to keep his breathing in check and keep strong for the next time he would have to open his eyes again. As he did his best to look around he noticed a wall where the light was glaring less hard at him. It could only be the door.

.

Soon enough, Lance was running blindly through the corridors - almost a little too literally. He had had to take down a few soldiers and sentries on his way, wondering how he had even managed to hit them or bring them down when his world only consisted of dancing shadows at best. He couldn't even see his fingers.

He didn't understand. Why didn't his eyes get used to the light already? He wanted to see! It definitely had been more than a few minutes. Actually, he was pretty sure he had been running around dodging close calls and miraculously hitting enemies for hours! Again, time was a concept Eternity had deformed for him. It probably had messed up his internal clock big times.

He was still sure that, by now, he should have been used to the excruciatingly painful light, though.

Not only it made it hard for him to get any kind of decent orientation in the ship, but he couldn't count his fingers. Getting around on the ship when his memory was a visual one was hard. He was pretty sure he had encountered more enemies than he would have if he could actually see.

When he did reach the control room, though, he was panting from the effort and his wings kept quivering from the stress he was under. Was it really the control room? Could he trust himself? He couldn't see it. Maybe it wouldn't be the room and he just got it wrong.

The doors swooshed open for him. Lance forced his eyes to open. It was still as painful as all the other times, maybe even more. This room was so illuminated compared to the other ones in the ship. All the screens were killing his eyes. As if to add even more pain, lasers flashed near his eyes as well. If only those Galra could stop shooting at him-

He shot right back, attempting to dance his way through the shots, just like he did the whole time he searched for the control room. He never fully managed though. Shots always grazed him here and there. He was pretty sure one of the shots had nicked the side of his stomach pretty bad. But he didn't really care. If he had been in the mood to make jokes, and if any member of his team had been there to listen to them, he would have said that he was currently blinded by the pain he felt in his eyes.

That would have brought a 'good one, Lance' from Hunk, and at least two sighs of amused annoyance. Sometimes, Shiro would try to hide his laugh when the joke was particularly light-hearted, but failed badly.

All the enemies were down, and Lance was in no mood to joke. It hurt. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get most of the tears away, even though new ones just kept coming and rolling down his cheeks. He staggered a bit.

If his wings were trembling before from the stress, now his whole body was. He still couldn't see the tip of his fingers. Was this a hallucination? Was it possible to hallucinate such amount of pain? Was this real? What if he was still in Eternity?

His hands started twitching toward each other, and soon enough, the blaster fell to the ground, as he caressed each one of his fingers. Ten fingers. He had ten fingers.

He had ten fingers. They were all there... Were they? He didn't hallucinate counting them either now, did he?

He counted his fingers again, just to be sure. Maybe twice more after that. He had all of his fingers. He was real. This was real. He really was in the control room.

He really could contact his flock. He could do it.

As he took his first step forward, the alarm started blaring. Had they caught up onto him escaping already? This fast? How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? He had to access that panel- no. He had to buy himself time. More time. For however long his escape had taken up so far.

Palming around the wall, he ended up slamming his hand down on the lock of the door. It had hurt his eyes some more, but he also managed to take back the gun on the ground and shoot the lock. That would buy him even more time. He needed time.

Without thinking, he dropped back the gun to hide his eyes while he found his way to the control panel, using his wings to try to not hit too many things on the way. He finally got where he needed to be. Alright. He knew how this worked.

Ever since Shiro had come back after his disappearance and told them how he never managed to get a hold of them, all Paladins - and Keith - were forced to remember the Castle's hailing frequency. He also had made more than one mission with Pidge, where they had to use the Galra's standard communication panel.

The only remaining problem would be keeping his eyes open long enough to compose the Castle's frequency.

Come on, Lance, you can do it.

Lance slowly breathed out, and let light flood up his eyes. He reached out, and slowly typed up the numbers, keeping his eyes right on the screen to ensure himself he wasn't doing any mistakes - he couldn't stop to see his fingers. Soon enough, the call went through, pinging the spaceship holding him captive's information and locations.

"Guys." Lance rasped out, almost surprised at his own voice. He still kept his eyes on the brighter light indicating he was being recorded. He had to be sure. He had to see he was being recorded. He had to make himself sure the team was receiving his message.

He could hear commotion starting behind the locked door. They were near. They wanted in. Lance still had to come to terms with the fact he wouldn't be able to fight them off. Not now. Not like this. Not this weak. He still couldn't see anything properly without crying his eyes out from the burn.

He focused back on the bright light. It was slowly fading. He passed nervous hands over his fingers, and opened his mouth. "I'm okay... kind of. Please come fast. I've used the code to ping the ship. Please. I'm not going to manage alone."

The lights kept fading away to darkness slowly, as his eyes started to burn more and more.

He passed once more his hands over every single one of his fingers. Ten.

He breathed in. He could feel his soaked cheeks as very little light got to his eyes. They burnt more than ever.

Electricity crackled to life behind the closed doors. Lance looked down to the panel one last time and pressed the send button. He hadn't seen his finger pressing it. He heard the typical sound announcing the message got successfully received, and closed his eyes.

There would be no record of him ever sending it. Hunk, Pidge, and Coran made sure of that. They would receive all the information they needed, but the Galra would get none.

Lance heard a detonation behind him, as the doors got blasted open. He heard the low, mechanical voice of the Druid barking orders. Lance tightened his lips. He didn't manage to see. He didn't have the blaster. He wouldn't get out of this by himself.

He had done all he could, and managed.

That was his only consolation as hands grabbed his arms and wings, bringing him down forcefully on his knees. He only had to wait for a few instants before fingers pressed into his cheeks, forcing him to look up. Memories of the round scissors glint flashed back to Lance's mind. The rough voice of the Druid rang again, cold.

"It's back to the interrogation room with you."

Lance could only wonder, through the ice-cold blood his heart was pumping, if he would have to count some fingers less next time he got out of that room... if he did got out of that room.


	5. Chapter 5

It had taken hours for Coran to calm Shiro down. The man had just been ready to fly back to the base, arm infected, and enemies roaming free down there, on the lookout for more disruption.   
At one point, the Altean had even been tempted to hit Shiro hard enough across the head so he'd lose consciousness. He had been very tempted. A little because it would have been much easier to shove Shiro into a pod afterward, but also because he was furious at them.

They were a team of five, but not one had thought of looking back to check if everyone was in their Lion. Nothing. Not even a message over the comms.

Thankfully for the little diplomacy that was still keeping him from losing control and go berserker on the Black Paladin, in the end, Shiro had agreed about going in the pod. It had taken him promises of keeping watch for any sign of life Lance could have sent from his position.   
Coran was a man of words and he had honored his promise.

As soon as Shiro's pod closed upon him, he uploaded all the pods whereabouts on a remote tablet he could carry around and headed down to the control room.

He sat down where Lance and himself had had their first heart-to-heart and waited.

He waited an awfully long time. Even as Hunk and Shiro came out, free of injuries, he kept waiting. He had had to break the news to Hunk when he stumbled out of the pod. The Yellow Paladin had laughed nervously and refused to believe Lance had been captured. Until he checked every single room in the Castle, he was convinced it was just a bad prank. The last room he came to search for Lance was the control room, where Coran and Shiro were already keeping watch.

The two men turned on Hunk when they heard the doors open wide. He was hyperventilating, wings quivering harder than they ever had before. They had never seen him in such a state. It was by far the worse anxiety burst they had seen of Hunk. They stared at each other for mere seconds before Hunk fell to his knees, hands gripping at the pod suit he was still wearing, and bawled. 

Nor Coran or Shiro knew how to deal with that. They had tried to approach him, to give Hunk some semblance of comfort. It proved to be useless. Coran was too caught up in his own worries and lack of sleep to be mentally apt to shoulder someone’s problems. As for Shiro, he had tried giving reassuring pats on Hunk’s shoulder, but it didn’t seem to comfort him at all; he only cried harder.

Shiro felt guilt crush over him, wings curled tight and cramping against himself. He was bad at comforting. He didn’t know how to do this. He had made it worse. 

In the end, Hunk had stopped crying, all out of tears. He didn’t feel more comforted. In fact, the emptiness that had taken Lance’s place only grew wider. 

It had been the last time they saw Hunk in the control room. He never joined them while they waited for a sign- anything that could come from Lance after that. 

Instead, he submerged himself in cooking. He let his mind be completely obsessed with the perfection of a recipe. He didn’t want to think about the mission. He didn’t want to think about the data retrieved either. He didn’t want to think back on Pidge and Allura, still stuck in their pods. He didn’t want to think about where Lance could be right now. What could be happening to him right this instant, as he was being useless cooking meals for a feast? He didn’t want to think.

Hunk closed himself off and didn’t leave that state of mind. He had left his best friend behind.

He was barely seen out of the kitchen when Allura came out of the pod. Nobody had the time to break the news to her. As soon as the machine spit her out, she slopped down in Coran’s arms, still out cold. The pod had stabilized her condition, but it couldn’t make her feel more rested. She just needed sleep, her mind and body were far past the point of exhaustion.

It wasn’t until Pidge came out, and that the team was -almost- physically complete that both the Green and Blue Paladins learned the news.

Pidge reacted the fastest. She recovered quickly from the news, throwing the most vicious glare they had ever seen on her. Why didn’t anybody look behind? Why hadn’t Lance tried to call out? When she observed the team, nobody really reacted to her glare. It infuriated her. All of them had dark bags under their eyes, they all looked dazed, lost in their own thoughts. 

Even with their impressive size, Coran’s wings were cramped shut, he looked like he just wanted to do the bare necessities to go back to watching out for Lance. Shiro had a few bruises on him, and it was no doubt because he spent some more time at the training deck. Allura… was still in shock. 

Hunk was probably the worse out of them. She was sure the empty look in his eyes would haunt her forever. He looked small. 

However, if Pidge could have, she would have glared at herself the hardest. How could she not have seen Lance getting singled out? She had had his transmission open the whole time on the side of her helmet’s screen. How could she have been this little careful? How did she allow another flock member to be lost, on her watch? Losing her father and brother had been far more than enough.

Before the first tears could roll off, she mumbled something about increasing the receiving signals of the Castle and stormed off. 

Allura came next to her senses.

Any emotion she could have had on her face was immediately hidden behind a scarily blank façade of diplomacy. She straightened herself up, wings flipping once before curling close, and asserted the situation. She asked for clarifications, what had happened after the event, inquired about what had been done so far. Shiro provided the most answers.

She tried reprimanding Hunk, who had been playing with the hem of his shirt, when he mumbled out distantly that he hadn’t done anything yet, except for cooking. 

Stargazing and cooking to oblivion, just waiting for Lance’s signs of life - if he still was alive, she added, the three men flinched hard at that - wasn’t going to cut it. They wouldn’t get forward in anything. They had to take action.

If they weren’t doing it for Lance, she had said, on a cold tone she usually reserved for problematic missions asking for diplomacy with a planet she had a strong dislike to, they would have to do it for the universe. They didn’t seem more bothered for Lance, aside from their vegetative search- if they were searching. She landed her gaze on Hunk. A small reaction, but barely. They didn’t know when Keith would return, nor how long it would take.  Or if the Red Lion would even take him back after spending so much time with Lance.

All in all, if they didn’t actively search for Lance right this instant, there would be no more Voltron, and it meant there would be no barrier to protect the universe.

As they each began working on some minor task to search for Lance, Allura kept going, refusing to let her façade drop. Even if Coran was more often than not pleading her to get have some rest, she kept going.

She was too scared of thinking it could be too late. He had to be alive. She wouldn’t have enough emotional strength to go through grief. Not again. Not when she had finally allowed herself to open back up.

 

* * *

  
  
The best action they could take for their search was contacting the Blades of Marmora. It was the first thing they did. Even though they didn’t seem to get any glimpse of Keith beside Kolivan’s figure or somewhere in the background, knowing that trusted allies would search with them improved ever so slightly their morale.

The meeting over video call had been short. They had briefly explained the situation, brushing over the details. Allura made a perfect figure giving out the coordinates to their latest mission, what it had been for, what kind of creatures existed there - at this point, Pidge had piped in for the explanation, as she had been the closest to these monsters with Shiro - and how Lance had been taken.

The first place to check for Lance or any clues leading to him was, on common accord, the base. They had equipped themselves as best as they could, ready to find and fight the monsters of flesh and metal. All of them were exhausted one way or another, but they had to find more clues about Lance. Anything would be fine. Somehow, when they arrived, aside from broken sentries laying around, there had been no monsters roaming the base.

After Pidge ran a scan with their energy signature around the base, they appeared to be back to their original cells. The Green Paladin made sure to keep them there with a small code, that would force the cell doors shut. She wasn’t sure how long, but definitely long enough to search for something.

They scavenged around, looking for the smallest out-of-place detail. The Blades that had come with them were also inspecting every aspect of this base. They had never heard about such a place. Knowing what kind of monsters sporting high-tech Galra weapons lived in there could make their abilities to shut out the Empire easier. If they could find any kind of intel about how they were made, it would be a great improvement for their cause.

All in all, when they arrived, the base was pretty much as they left it. Less crowded with robots, however, seeing how many they had taken down- Lance had taken down. The few discernible changes were there, though; burn marks on the walls, destroyed sentries that hadn’t been cleared off the corridors, a bit of blood here and there on the ground from their injuries, a lot of feathers - blue and yellow ones, especially - thrown around on the ground.

The Blades accompanying them had specifically requested their presence and implication with their help to be kept secret from Lotor. They still didn’t know whether to trust him or not. Lotor, while away, would only be able to know the information Allura had collected. Their little escapade back to the base had to be strictly left out. It also, unfortunately, meant that Lance’s disappearance would have also to be kept secret. 

That last point would be harder to cover up, but out of respect for their allies, they would do everything possible to refrain the Blades from meeting Lotor.

Shiro pressed his lips into a thin line, feathers puffing up and down from uneasiness. Robot parts were everywhere. They looked disturbingly human, sprawled on the ground when they were still whole. The blood shed around them didn’t help in the slightest. Was it Lance’s? Someone else’s?

He didn’t remember seeing or hearing anyone getting hurt in this corridor. 

Yet again, he hadn’t heard Lance calling for help either. What kind of flock mate was he being if he didn’t? If only he had been more attentive. If only he had heard. If only he had checked once more.

If he had then… he could have had went back. He could have had helped Lance fight his way through to his Lion. Lance would have returned with them. He would have forced everyone in a preening session on they’d be out of the pods. Shiro would have tried without much brio to apply Lance’s favorite lotion to his remarkable blue and yellow wings.

Instead, Lance was… somewhere in the Galaxy. If he still was in the Galaxy. What was happening to him, now? 

Was he bound? Was he being tortured? Was he experiencing pain? Was he restrained? Was he forced to go against beasts and innocents alike in an arena? Was he in the middle of that room Shiro dreaded the memories of, blinded by spotlights? Was he caught up by the raw fear of kill or be killed?

Could he feel the grainy, foreign sand under the thin protection the prisoner's uniform offered? Could he hear the noise? 

The loud crowd eerily cheering for death. The whimpers of the next prisoners that would be mercilessly thrown in the arena. The swoosh of the sword cutting through the air. And that damned light that kept getting in his eyes, making every reflective surface glint harder than ever.   


The sand being tinted in blood. It always glinted the same way, no matter its color. No matter which kind of alien he had to kill. It always felt like slicing through meat. Sometimes butter, once he got his arm. The arena’s air would always become suffocating as the faceless crowd would cheer loudly at each one of his kills. The screams kept going, and going, and going-

“Shiro!”

Shiro’s head snapped up. He met the concerned gaze of Hunk, who, once he was sure he got Shiro back to reality, smiled awkwardly at him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay man? You stopped breathing and your wings puffed up like crazy.”

Now that Hunk was saying it… he did feel out of breath.

Shiro opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to reply. He ended up simply straightening himself up, bringing his feathers down on his clamped wings, and nodded curtly.   


It had been a while since he got such an attack. Usually - and especially in the last few weeks - he would get around his team to ground himself. More often than not, he would get a preening session with Lance. No matter how short it had to be because of their cause, it always grounded him, and lately had even started relaxing him deeply.

He hadn’t had one of those in quite a while, however. Lance’s capture already put him on edge, but realizing the lack of touch he had had without him certainly didn’t help.

A hand waved in front of his eyes. Right. Hunk. He couldn’t let himself be distracted too much. For Lance’s sake. “Sorry.” Shiro finally answered. “What were you saying?”

Hunk didn’t look more bothered than that, maybe just worried about his attack and absence. He pointed up a direction behind him nonchalantly with his thumb. “Pidge found Lance’s bayard in some rumbles. We don’t know why they didn’t take it with them but… maybe we could get something out of it?”

Shiro nodded, following the Yellow Paladin, taking note of how his handprint seemed to remain on his shoulder, as a ghost touch would. 

He was missing that. The small interactions. Up until they started getting ready for the mission, Hunk had stayed frighteningly quiet. His friendly hugs and touches had simply just vanished.

Even if Hunk still looked more closed off than he used to be, at least, he was interacting with them. It was the first time in a week. Shiro could only guess that the possibility to find something, anything to bring Lance back made him hopeful.

Shiro couldn’t blame him for that either. He, too, could feel hope pulsing through him. The mere thought of finding something to get them closer to their Red Paladin. Their Lance. Bring him back.

They reached Pidge, who was clearing off the sentries that were still blocking her access to the bayard. Out of security measures, they all had agreed to move the robots around, in case they weren’t fully destroyed. They couldn’t afford someone getting wounded. Right as they came to a stop next to Pidge, she had picked the weapon up. She was holding it in such an unnatural way, not like herself at all. As if the bayard was going to break if she held it too firmly in her palm.

Her eyes didn’t meet anyone’s, solely focused on what she found. “It’s slightly damaged.” She said, voice neutral.

Pidge had kept interacting with them, unlike Hunk, but talking with her felt like their relationships as a flock had brought them back on the first days they were shot in space. To the days where she still wanted to leave Voltron, wanted to find her family. She addressed to them as she would for business only.

Out of the whole team, only Allura really kept extremely active search for Lance. Both girls made Shiro feel like he didn’t do enough for Lance. That he hadn’t done anything for him when they were searching, as he was just hoping that nothing too bad would happen to him. He felt so useless. When they would find Lance, Shiro swore to himself, he would make up for all the time he should have been there for him.

He looked over the bayard in Pidge’s small hands. It did look slightly damaged. It had more than one scratch and burn marks. The red of the weapon was covered in soot, and a part of one of the branches had been chipped. It didn’t look fragile enough for the way Pidge was holding it, though.

It could also just be because she was anxious and exhausted with the situation. They all were. Their wings were tight, feathers all over the place. Maybe Pidge’s wings were a little tighter than the rest. Last time she was here, her wing had been broken after all. Shiro was sure his rough help with his big clumsy hands had done even more damage until she finally went in the pod.

“Do you think you could get anything out of it?” Shiro asked. He looked over the weapon again. “... And fix it up for Lance? I’m sure he’d love to get a near brand-new bayard once he’ll be back.”

That line alone brought back some life in both his flockmate’s eyes. Hunk seemed to relax a bit, and Pidge managed a small yet confident smile. “Of course I can.” She said softly. Her voice sounded small. “Hunk, I’ll need your help building it back up after I take it apart though.”   


Hunk nodded, raising a thumb up.   


.   


Aside from the bayard, they hadn’t found anything else worth of value on the base. At least concerning Lance. The Blades had been collecting and shooting information to their HQ left and right without a pause, ever since they set foot on it. 

Soon came the time for the Paladins to get back to the Castle with their only loot. The Blades preferred to stay behind to keep exploring some more, finishing up collecting what interested them.

As soon as they reached the Castle, they brought the bayard to Allura, who had had to sit the research down. Her exhaustion and low energy levels made her unable to stand properly and she had been forced to listen to Coran’s orders to rest. She didn’t actually go sleep though and preferred supervising the mission directly from the Castle. Just in case. So they wouldn’t get in troubles. She already had got a friend captured by the Galra, and that was already too much.

Seeing Lance’s bayard- her father’s - in their hands also brought her back some hope.

She wholeheartedly agreed with their plan of finding information through it and fixing it. As soon as she was done giving her agreement on the course of action, Pidge and Hunk ran off to their mutual workstation, hoping to extract as many clues as they could from the bayard.

.

Shiro wasn’t sure of how long it took their two techs to research the bayard. As of usual, he wasn’t doing anything good to help, aside from stargazing, as Allura put it. Waiting for some miracle news from anyone. May it be Lance, the Blades, or any ally asking for help. That’s all he could do, really. He wasn’t exactly good at anything else in this situation.

He was observing the empty room, trying to get his wings at ease when Pidge and Hunk came running, the two alteans on their tails.

The Princess could hardly stand by herself. The rest she was supposed to be taking was anything but respected. It upset most of them, at least Shiro and Coran. She needed to build back up her quintessence, instead of spending it wormholing them around when they heard fake rumors of places Lance could be at. He couldn’t do anything about it, however. If Allura wasn’t even going to listen to Coran, what could Shiro possibly do?

As they gathered together, Shiro noted how distant they all were to each other. They weren’t staying in close ranks like they used to before, all gathering over whatever Pidge or Hunk had created, bumping shoulder and slapping each other's wings to get a better view. Lance was usually the one all about wanting ‘the best view’, as he put it, forcing the others into squeezing comfortably against each other. 

They really needed to find him. Once they would, everything would be back to normal.

“I think we may have found out something.” Pidge began, raising the repaired bayard in her hand, waving it around. It really did look brand new. She had found back some confidence too; she was holding the bayard firmly. “The bayard is linked to the armor, right?”

Although it sounded like a question, Shiro knew from experience it wasn’t. It was just her exposition of the problem. He still nodded along with the rest of the flock. Coran, however, had perked up, taking a breath in. He always did so before telling a tale or giving an explanation only a wise Altean, or mechanic could give.

He got interrupted by Pidge that kept her explanation going before he could even start talking. The Altean closed his mouth, retracting into himself, his immense wings puffing slightly up. Lance would probably have petted him knowingly on the shoulder. Shiro couldn’t bring himself to. He would have done it without much of a problem before… but now? It felt like it would be too wrong. Out of place. He wasn’t the one that was supposed to pet Coran’s shoulder.

Shiro let the nervous shivers go down his wings before focusing back on Pidge’s explanations, researches. They had fixed up the weapon, she explained. It was now much sturdier, and even quicker to activate. As a matter of fact, both of Voltron’s brains planned to reinforce their bayards once they would have Lance safe and sound at home with them.

The bayards, as they explained while setting up screens and cables around for whatever they were going to show, were linked to the armors. Coran nodded to that again. That meant that, through some codes oddly familiar to the ones they had used to make a map out of Sendak’s memories, they would, eventually, be able to use the star map that would then indicate where Lance’s armor would be.

As Hunk plugged in the last cable, Pidge kept on going with her explanation, quickly writing down codes Shiro couldn’t follow on the keyboard. That was way over his head. She finally hit the send button, and her trademark logo flashed on the screen. Three dots appeared one after the others under the said logo, over and over…

… They never seemed to stop. The whole room became tense, suffocating. Wasn’t the program supposed to work by now, already? Had Pidge gotten it wrong? Shiro glanced at her.

Her eyes were sunken in but were unblinkingly focused on the screen. Her wings were in a total disarray of dirty and broken feathers, close to herself. It made her smaller than she already was.

Then, a ping resonated from the screen, bringing Shiro’s attention back to it; the star map opened on screen.

So did eleven blue points, all spread across the galaxy. Shiro grimaced. So they did get rid of the armor at some point. Their lead with the bayard had been completely useless.

Pidge cursed loudly once, standing up from the chair with a jump.

Hunk brought his fist down on the table. The sound of it echoed loudly in the empty, silent room. They had failed. They were back to step one. Lance was lost somewhere. Lance still wasn’t with them. 

As they seemed frozen in the room, however, the map cleared out, before the screen beeped loudly with two notifications. One from the Blades of Marmora. The other from an unknown Galra ship using a very special hailing frequency Hunk, Pidge and Coran had set up.


	6. Chapter 6

Both the messages had everything to do with Lance.

The Blades one was to tell them to get ready to fight soon. They had localized their missing Paladin, as he quite forcefully attacked the member of the Blade they had barely managed to move onto the ship, and shot him. Thankfully, the infiltrated member was ‘ _j_ _ust’_ gravely hit, and would be able to transmit the ship’s slightly different layout. They concluded their message by saying they would be coming as soon as possible to begin the extraction of both the Paladin and the Blade.

The second message…

The second message was from Lance himself. When the feed appeared on screen, Shiro’s heart began thumping so hard he almost had missed Lance’s words. He wasn’t looking good. His cheeks were almost hollow, and his wings so tight against his back he could hardly see them. Some blood, fresh and dried alike, tainted the prisoner’s uniform he had been shoved in. Tears glinted all the way down his cheeks, and he kept looking forward, a bit higher than the camera lens was.

“Guys.” Lance began. Shiro gritted his teeth. That wasn’t the voice of their Lance, it was too soft and scared. They had to get to him. They had to bring him back to safety.  “I’ve used the code to ping the ship.” His voice sounded so quiet and wobbly.

Tiny fingers immediately typed away on the keyboard, fishing out all the informations Lance had given them, and letting the program delete what could possibly expose them few seconds after. As the information was being pulled up on the map, Shiro saw, from the corner of his eye, Coran helping Allura near the commands of the ship. They were getting ready to get a move toward Lance’s position.

However, due to Allura’s condition, she wouldn’t be able to wormhole them. They would have to go the old-fashioned way. Or else she’d lose consciousness again and they couldn’t afford putting her into a pod, especially not before getting such an important as getting Lance back. She knew it. Or else they would have wormholed already.

However, she still would not get proper rest until their whole flock was safe and sound. She stood by herself soon enough, and maneuvered expertly the ship.

Shiro could only agree with her way of leading. He wouldn’t feel safe and at peace enough to even sleep until he would have Lance back by his side.

A new notification appeared on screen; the Blades had arrived. Great. They would form a quick, flawless plan on their way there, and they would own it. However, the time it would take to get to him would take more than a day. Shiro scrunched up his nose. It wasn’t good. Too much could happen in more than a day.

 

* * *

 

Ten fingers. He still had his ten fingers. It was good, right? It had to be good. He had gone for so long in… in _that_ room without losing any of them. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

He still couldn't see anything. Did that really mean he was whole? He knew his wings must have been in a terrible state. The Druid had been relentless on them. He seemed to be mesmerized with hurting his wings more than the rest. But if he still had his ten fingers, it meant he was okay… wasn’t he?

No, he was. He was still out of Eternity after all. But he also was in that terrible, terrible room at the end of the corridor. The Druid was making up for all the time he hadn’t come visit him in Eternity. How many times had his feathers been pulled out, or snapped, or both? How many times did he try to flinch away from the Druid’s touch, only to have ropes digging into his body and getting mercilessly electrocuted?

Lance didn’t even remember the questions he was being commanded to answer. His mind was always slipping elsewhere, where pain kept suffocating him, kept making him unable to breathe. He wouldn’t even be able to tell them in any case. He couldn’t. His voice was too sore from screaming. He still was so, _so scared_. He didn’t want to lose his fingers. He didn’t want any more damage to his wings. He wanted to see again.

 _Why couldn’t he see?!_ He was out of Eternity. It wasn’t right. He was supposed to see again once he got out of Eternity. So why wasn’t he seeing now?

He couldn’t even see the hurtful _purple_ lights anymore. Not since the recording. Had his team even received his message? Had he actually seen the recording going on? Yes. He had seen it. It was the last thing he saw, with the purple lights. He couldn’t have been hallucinating that out of nowhere, now… could he?

No. The message _had_ been sent. He had seen it. He could trust his eyes. His team had received his S.O.S. call.

He hoped they would find it fast. It already felt like he had been in this place for forever. On the… bright-ish side, he was alone now. The Druid wasn’t in the room to touch him. He didn’t want to be touched. He wanted his team’s warm hugs. He wanted to feel Hunk’s strong arms around him. Pidge’s playful nudges. Allura’s delicate hands on his shoulders. Coran’s fatherly embrace. He wanted to feel Shiro’s fingers clumsily working through his wings again.

His wings were so sore. The rope was digging far too much into them, even more than the first time. His arms too, even if this time he had been tied up on a chair. He took in a shaky breath.

He passed his thumb on his fingers, to count them. They hurt. His fingers hurt so much. Was it from losing them? He counted ten digits. Why did they hurt, then?

The door opened again, as the Druid stepped into the room. Or at least, Lance thought it was the Druid. The steps he was hearing were light, and lacked the military, metallic sound of the sentires. Lance tensed up. Even if the sentries were pretty bad and left him with nasty gashes, the Druid _terrified_ him.

They didn’t waste any time doing the thing Lance hated the most, the thing that made him feel trapped and used. Long, bony fingers gripped through his feathers. Lance shuddered, still trying -stubbornly- to flinch away from Them. He didn’t want to be touched. Touches always meant hurting. Especially when it was the Druid’s. He wanted to be away. He couldn’t move. Lance whimpered. He wanted the hurt to stop.

The hurt only kept coming though. Electricity sparkled everywhere across his body, making him scream and gasp and cough when he tasted iron on his dry tongue. Why wasn’t it over. He wasn’t saying anything. Why did they keep hurting him? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell anything, They knew that. He had to keep his mouth shut. He had to make it so he lost his voice as well as his sight… Did he lose his fingers as well? Maybe. He couldn’t feel anything but electricity.

“You’ll have to speak eventually, boy. Answer.”

The Druid’s uncomfortable fingers left his feathers… but came back soon enough on his hands. More specifically, his index finger.

.

He still had all of them… Right? Did he still have all of them? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t know. There was pain. Hurt. so much of it. He didn’t want to be touched. It had been so, so painful. He didn’t know if he still had all of his fingers. Lance couldn’t remember anything but the excruciating pain of it all. On each finger. One question. One finger… Did he lose his fingers? He couldn’t remember.

He hadn’t told.

He hadn’t told anything. But he wished he could. He wished so much he had cared less. It wouldn’t have hurt so much. He was sure. But only thinking of telling them made him feel sick in the stomach. He was disgusted by himself. He couldn’t tell. He wouldn’t tell. But it hurt.

Lance took a shuddering breath, a borderline sob.

They had moved him away from the torture room. He could only be back in Eternity. Maybe. He didn’t know. Everything hurt. He didn’t remember.

They had shoved him in maybe-Eternity. They had locked chains to his wrists, keeping his hands from meeting each other. He couldn’t even count his fingers. He could only reach his severed wings. His useless, clipped wings. He could grip tightly on his feathers as he sobbed in the corner he had been bound to.

He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anymore. He couldn’t fly. He couldn’t count his fingers. He could feel pain. He could feel hurt. Lance sobbed. At least… he thought he did. He couldn’t even hear himself cry anymore. His ears felt numb and clogged.

He tugged on his feathers.

At least… at least the Druid was away now. Right? Or maybe They were watching him break down from somewhere. Ready to touch his wings again.

Lance didn’t want to be touched.

 

* * *

 

Finally, the Castle had reached the star-system Lance was kept captive to.

The Blades were by their sides, the plan was made. They were only a few minutes, maybe half an hour away from putting their plan into action. It felt like forever. Nervousness was eating them from the insides. Most of the flock, if not all, had definitely plucked out a few feathers that had molted due to stress while waiting. Even though the plan was neat and covered most of the situations they could end up in, there were too uncertainties concerning Lance.

Would he be okay? Would he still be strong enough to walk, or run away with Them? They couldn’t wish more than finding a healthy Lance. But they had seen many of the horrors the Galra had subjected their enemies to. If Team Voltron was full of hopes for Lance’s safety, their wild imagination did nothing to appease the acid building up in their stomach.

They went over their plan one last time. The Blades had come with the layout of the spaceship. Although it was strikingly similar to most of the usual cruisers, equal in external design, the layout was different.

There weren’t many ships such as this one, the Blades had informed them. There was a reason for that; those cruisers were led by Druids. Very few Galra managed to get promoted on these cruisers. Most of its population were sentries.

The cruisers, at least before Zarkon’s demise, had never really left their hangars. The witch used her closest druids to conduct experiments on quintessence at the time, so they hadn’t been roaming around so much back then.

In any case, if they had to be wary of something while spreading out in search of Lance, it _was_ the Druid. Not only would they alert more dangerous authorities if they did happen to notice the entirety of the Voltron crew on the ship, but they held even more powers than regular druids. They were Haggar’s close clique. They used their powers with more ease and destruction than any other.

When they started mentioning the Druid, Shiro’s wings had started to quiver slightly. He hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. But if that druid was really that close to the witch…

Chances were that they probably had met already, in conditions that Shiro didn’t want to remember. He preferred those memories buried far deep inside. As much as Shiro wanted to put a brave front of fearless leader, he wasn’t sure he would be able to put up a fight without freezing up. There was too much changes he would give the Druid an advantage. He couldn’t meet with the Druid. That would put the entire Team at risk.

Shiro truly wished everything would go without a hitch.

Allura, who had sat down once the Castle was following the correct course, had been the first one to point out the extremely long corridor on the map. It led to one single room at the end of it.  She inquired about it.

“It is most likely where they’ll be keeping the Blue Paladin. They tend to conduct their experiments and interrogations in that room.” The Blades had explained. Their voice had been oddly calm when they started detailing the horrors that went on in that room.

Shiro shivered. As if his imagination about what was happening to their Lance wasn’t wild enough. He just _had_ to picture Lance amputated or mutilated. Or mutated. What if they changed him into some kind of robeast? They had to get him back.

They just had to wait a few more minutes.

 

* * *

 

He was definitely back to Eternity.

He didn’t manage to calm down for even one second. He was pretty sure he hadn’t slept at all, ever since he had been thrown here. His heartbeat was a mess, and constantly shifted between fast and hurtful.

The faces came back. They were not leaving this time. They just kept staring at him, and approaching, close and closer. They were mocking him, bringing him even lower. Dragging him in fear and terror. He wanted them gone. Why couldn’t he be blind to the faces? Why did he have to be blind to everything but the faces?

They just kept approaching, smiling more and more. They were inhuman. The closer they came, the closer they got detailed and lost them at the same time. They made Lance sob and scream, want to move away. But he was trapped in the cube. He was trapped in Eternity. He couldn’t even hear himself sob and scream. He couldn’t even hear the purr of the engine that assured him he was still on a ship.

He wasn’t sure of anything. Of Eternity, of his fingers, of the message, of where he was, of how long it had been, and that Face just kept _coming closer._ It was closer than ever before. But everything would have to be okay, right?

They never touched him before. Even if those Faces looked even more realistic than the previous ones. He didn’t know how long he had been down there. But none of the faces had touched him yet. Why would it change now?

He didn’t want to be touched. He wouldn’t tell anything. He couldn’t betray his flock.

The face was right there, in front of him. Its features were constantly changing.

Lance was scared. It was too close. Way too close. He wanted it away from him. He wanted to be safe. Breathing was hard.

He stopped breathing altogether when he felt a hand brush up against his arm. He had been touched. He didn’t want to be touched. Who had even touched him? The Face? It was going to hurt again. Lance closed his fist tighter on his feathers. His wings started trembling harder as he resumed his hyperventilation.

Before he could grasp the situation- he didn’t grasp anything. He didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t breathe. He was trapped- another hand brushed through his hair, right as pain spread in his useless wings.

Lance whimpered, trying to hide them from whoever was petting his hair and hurting him.

It was only when he tried to shove the person in front of him away to futilely attempt protecting himself that he realized that… there was no one in front of him. And that he held his own feathers tight in his hands. They were tickling his face. They smelled of dry blood and sweat.

Had he… had he just torn his feathers away by himself? No. No, it was impossible. It had to be someone else. He cared too much for his feathers to do that. But… when the feathers appeared in his fingers, the Face had disappeared. Did it keep the Faces away?

He tried to calm himself down, gulping thick, dry saliva down his closed throat.

Who had patted his head then?

He made himself smaller, trying to hide from Eternity all around him. If… if he had feathers that were torn and put in his hands, there must have been someone else in the cell with him… right? It couldn’t be. He was entirely cramped and could barely move in there. He would have noticed if anyone came in. He would have noticed if the Druid came-

“Lance!”

Lance’s head snapped up. He had heard that. He couldn’t see any faces though. How could he hear anything? Did it come back? Was the ship stopped and it was why he hadn’t been hearing its purr? Lance braced himself for contact.

He knew that, if he had been called by his first name, it was someone he knew. And he was going to be touched or grabbed. He didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want his wings to be grabbed. Whoever it was, Lance was going to end up hurt. He didn’t want to be touched.

He wanted to grab his hands. Count his fingers. Anything to distract himself from the pain that was going to come- he was going to be touched. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t count his fingers. He didn’t even know if he still had ten.

“Lance.”

He gasped, curling in on himself, wings glued to his back and painfully pressed against the wall. He had definitely heard someone this time. It was familiar, even. Did… did he know the person in here with him?

He felt hands caress his scalp again. Lance trembled. When would these hands start pulling his hair, plucking his feathers and make holes in his skin? Everything hurt. The hands didn’t stop stroking him. “Oh, my sweet Lance.”

He recognized that voice! He… he recognized the gesture in his hair.

But it was impossible.

She couldn’t be there. He felt lips press on top of his forehead. The hands still hadn’t stopped. “Look at how dirty you got your wings, _mijo_.”

The ghost of a caress on his wing bone.

He pressed himself more against the wall. Not caring if his wings were screaming at him to stop, and started bleeding again.

It was impossible. His mother couldn’t be there. She couldn’t be stuck in Eternity with him. She couldn’t be in _space_. But the touches were so real. He could still feel the warmth of her lips. Or at least, the ghost of it. He… he wanted that warmth!

But he couldn’t bring himself to relax in it. He knew he was going to get hurt from being touched sooner or later.

One of the Face appeared, making his heart beat painfully in his chest again. It was smiling, as always, floating not too far, staring at him without blinking. Lance’s breath quickened when, for the first time, the Face opened its mouth, breathing in. His mother’s voice sounded in Eternity, from the Face whose details were fading in and out. “What a disappointment, _mijo._ ”

 

* * *

 

They finally had the cruiser in sight. They would have to check very few rooms for Lance. However, they didn’t know where the Druid would be.

Shiro’s hands were deathly cold, cramped around the safety rail in the cargo ship they were in. He couldn’t help but think of all the ways the plan could go wrong. Most of all, he couldn’t help but think that there was a possibility they would get to Lance too late. _No_. He shook his head. He had to get rid of these thoughts. He had to focus. He had to get Lance.

They started the infiltration manoeuvers, sending a homemade code to scramble the cruiser’s devices, robots included. That could only last so long, and if anyone stood present in the control room with the sentries, they would realize fast enough what was going on.

It was their best, if not only chance, however. And if it meant getting Lance back to him, by hell was he going to take it. Shiro knew that the Team shared the exact same thoughts.

The plan began.

.

As soon as they came in, thankfully without a hitch, they quickly split up. Hunk and Pidge went for the cameras, in a backroom that would allow them to trace the movements in the ship, and try to speed through said cameras in search of Lance. Allura and Shiro went for the lone room at the end of the corridor. It was where, after all, they had the most chances to find their Lance back.

The Blades that were accompanying them split up for the infirmary, in hopes to find their brother in arms. He had gathered too much valuable information to be left on the ship wounded. Hopefully, he would also be conscious enough to give more details about the Red Paladin’s whereabouts.

Galran corridors never ceased to make Shiro tense up. His wings would always cramp up, and he would always feel trapped. They were too small for his wingspan - which wasn’t that impressive to begin with - and the more he looked at them, the smaller it felt.

He knew he could count on Allura for support, though. Although she was weakened, the mere thought of getting Lance back seemed to have given her an energy boost to keep going forward.

None of them missed the bloodstains that were here and there on the floor. It meant nothing good. They could only hope it wasn’t only Lance’s. They reached the door. It slid open easily.

The sight inside the room made Shiro’s stomach churn. A lone chair with bloody ropes around it, in the middle of the room, surrounded by bloodied broken feathers laying around. Blue and yellow feathers. They had the same shapes as Shiro’s.

Both his and Allura’s wings clasped against their back, shudders ripping through their bodies. What had they done to their Lance? They had to find him real fast. He wasn’t in the room, but it only left terror in their stomach. In what state could he be in?!

“Shiro, Allura.” Pidge’s quiet voice came washing over the com. She must have seen the feathers through their feed by now. Shiro responded to her. As soon as he raised his voice, she interrupted him. “The Druid is coming your way. You need to hide.”

There was a pause where they could have heard a pin drop.

They looked around the room in a hurry. Where could they hide in here?! It was just a perfectly square room. There was no place or hope to hide or blend in! Allura grabbed his forearm, and pointed at a vent in the ceiling.

With a shared glance, they crouched low, spreading their wings wide, and took off. Shiro cut the vent open with his prosthesis, and hurried Allura in, before following her, turning back to hold the vent door in place.

He could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his whole body, making him twitch each time it passed behind his ears. “Team.” He whispered quickly in the open comm. “We’re going to need a decoy. And fast.”

“We’ll be taking care of this.” One of the Blades answered.

Shiro heard Hunk’s breath quickening, while Pidge murmured some ideas to improve their plan at last-minute.

The door slid open. The Druid stepped in.

They stopped right away in the doorway, having obviously noticed something. Shiro’s wings started quivering hard enough it was slightly shaking Allura’s arms that were trying to keep them from making noise against the cramped walls. Her breath quickened as well behind him. If they moved now, they would immediately be heard. If they were discovered, they would have next to no time to get out of the vent without being hit by one of the Druid’s attacks.

The figure took a few steps forward, bending to take one of Lance’s feathers. One of the few that hadn’t been broken. They were standing exactly where Shiro and Allura had taken off.

The feathers around the area had been pushed away by the gush of air coming from their wings, Shiro realized. _No._ He knew that the Druid had noticed it as well. They wouldn’t have froze in the doorway, and wouldn’t be turning their head around so much in the room otherwise.

The Druid slowly snapped the bloody feather in two, before throwing it away. They kept looking around, slowly walking around the place.

 _This was it_. Shiro thought, trying his best not to make his fingers tremble in rhythm with the rest of his body.  If he did, they would get noticed, and they would be fried up with electricity, and he would be given back to Haggar as a plaything.

One of his now familiar headaches surfaced, ripping through his head, from his temples, playing with his optical nerves. It was the worst time to get one.

The Druid stopped right under the vent, and Shiro felt like it was the end. He could barely keep the door properly shut through his trembles and headache. They were going to be discovered. Everything would be over. He would lose Lance forever. Voltron would fall. The universe would be defenseless against the Galra that still spread destruction.

The ship shook. It was hard enough to be abnormal. The were thrown on the side slightly, and the Druid had to make a step to regain balance. Both the Paladins heard them clicking their tongue before vanishing into thin air, a few purple-ish black smokes remaining behind them.

Their comm crackled to life.

“Distraction successful. The Druid entered the control room.”

Shiro sighed heavily and his headache seemed to subdue at the same time.

Both of them crawled out of the vent, almost dropping like dead weight, instead of landing properly on the ground. They replied to the comm, thanking the Blade. “Lance is not in here.”

He heard Pidge groan, and then the sound of keyboard being typed on rapidly… and angrily. “I saw him being dragged out- but there seems to be next to no camera in here. Seriously. How do Druids do without _any_ camera?” She toned down after that, muttering about codes to overheat the cruiser with Hunk.

Someone else spoke up over the comm. The other Blade. “We know where they’re holding him.” A pause. A cough in the background. “Get away from the room, and away from the corridor. We’ll guide you from there.”

.

“Now if you press the button, the elevator’s door will open. Only one goes down, or else you’ll be stuck down there.”

Once again, they noticed some blood on the ground, a larger pool, slightly darker. Some of it was smudged. They quickly went to their positions. Allura went by the button, as energy was seeping away from her. Shiro took place on the elevator’s platform.

Before soon, he was going down. It was oddly tight. It could have easily passed off as a vent. Shiro quickly found himself to do some breathing exercises to prevent himself from freaking out. The knots in his stomach were getting worse. He didn’t know how he would find Lance, he wanted to be back to the Castle with him already.

He had to stay patient. He would never keep any kind of cool-headedness otherwise. He could try to chill out, as Lance had put it after playing together with Coran, and try to think about something else. He tried thinking literally anything. Even planning some team training in vents. But nothing good came out of it.

It didn’t relax him one bit. It just made him stress more about Lance. Was he okay? How bad had his wings been damaged? Would he still be conscious?

The closer he got, the less he could see. Quickly, he activated the flashlight from his wrist armor.

This place was making him uncomfortable. He could barely stand straight with his wings relaxed.

He finally came to a stop, and had to crouch to get his whole body in the entirely black room. How could it be this small? Was Lance in there? He turned around a bit too fast and winced when his wings hit up the metallic ceiling. There he was.

Their Lance.

He looked as terrifying as he looked terrified. The pale light from his wrist didn’t help one bit. He looked like a ghost. His eyes were almost completely clear, devoid of their usual dark blue color. Tears were running down from his face. He was looking at something past Shiro.

He was bloodied, and the dirty uniform had had in the message he send them didn’t even look purple anymore. His wrists were bound by shackles chained to the wall, and kept his hands apart.

Shiro had to suck in a harsh breath to force himself to breathe again. What had they done to him?! Feathers were scattered around, a good handful of them in Lance’s own hands.

Shiro crawled to him, and sliced the handcuffs open, throwing them away. Lance’s arms fell like dead weight on the ground. He heard gasps from the others through the com. They had been watching his feed. He got a bit closer to their Red Paladin.

“Come on, Lance, I got you,” Shiro said, with the steadiest voice he could manage. It probably wasn’t very convincing - it wasn’t to him, at least - but nobody said anything. Not Lance, not over the comm.

But Lance didn’t move. He kept staring off into nothingness, tense, fingers curled into a fist around the feathers in his hands.

“Shiro.” It was Pidge. “We don’t have much time for this. Just grab him already. I still need to overload the system to make the ship explode, and…” She paused, muttering something to Hunk, who muttered back. “... the Druid is getting back to the torture room. You left the vent door on the ground. They’ll understand what’s happening soon enough.”

Shiro’s blood ran cold. They needed to get a move _now_.

He muttered a small apology to Lance before he grabbed him, keeping him close. He winced when he felt how much tenser the other had become when he got touched. And he winced even harder when his hands touched the other’s wings. They felt so wrong. His feathers - what was left of them - felt wrong.

He man-handled their Red Paladin to the elevator’s platform, and notified Allura to bring them back up. He held Lance close to him. They had to pass through the vents together. But he also held onto Lance to ensure himself that Lance was actually there. He had him. He would bring Lance back home. He held the boy a bit closer at this thought.

He would be safe, now. Shiro would make sure of this. The whole team would.

As soon as he made it out, he and Allura escorted Lance to the infiltrated ship. “Hit the code, Pidge, Hunk!”

He got two affirmative replies. Few seconds after, the whole ship started to wheeze. It didn’t take much longer for the Blades to come back, carrying their wounded comrade, and it took one more moment to get Pidge and Hunk aboard.

One of the Blades jumped for the pilot’s seat, and started the ship before the bay’s door sealed completely. Shiro looked around and back, counting everyone. His headache came back right as the ship shook from the cruiser’s explosion.

Even through the headache, he lept Lance close.

They were going home. Coran’s voice sounded in their comm when they got in range. “Alright, everyone. I’ve prepared a pod for our Lance and our wounded Blade!”

Shiro nodded to himself. They had Lance. Everything would be back to normal. Or so he hoped.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn’t until Lance had been shoved into the healing pod that they fully assessed what had been done to him.

His wings were in a horrible state. Once they had washed the blood off of them, they could see his usually bright blue and yellow feathers had greatly dulled off. He had more missing feathers than feathers left. What hurt to see the most was his primaries… or, well… the lack of them. Not only had his wings been mutilated, but he had been clipped. Badly at that.

His nails had been ripped out, his fingers broken and, according to Coran, who struggled to stay awake due to too many nights tending to everyone, when he was brought in there, he had also been blinded and deaf. Blood had clogged up in his ears. “Not to worry, though!” He had declared. Even his joyful tone sounded off, worn down by exhaustion. “The healing pod can take care of that! He’ll be swimmingly great once he comes out! Just like before!”

The Altean quickly excused himself after explaining that Lance would be perfectly alright after the pod. He had tried convincing the rest of the team to go wash and take a well-deserved rest. None of them really wanted to go. Coran huffed about stubborn paladins that never changed and went alone for a change of clothes.

If Shiro hadn’t been so worried for Lance, he would have smiled at Coran’s antics. He knew the Altean wasn’t much better than them on the stubbornness. Every time Shiro would go stargazing, Coran was already there, and ready to drown out his worries with tales of old. It never really worked but he appreciated the gesture. He also knew that Coran barely slept, to take care of Allura when she had been too stubborn to rest. He tried to poke Hunk about cooking to get a rise out of him, to shoo him off of his closed behavior. He also tried to cheer Pidge back up by helping her learn Altean better.

Sadly, none of his attempts really changed anything.

Shiro turned back to the pods. The Blade they had rescued was practically healed already, but Lance had done quite the damage on him. But none of the Blades seemed much bothered by that. It seemed like they were just waiting for their comrade to be healed before returning to Kolivan for their next mission.

He shifted his sight to Lance’s pod.

Hunk was next to it, looking like he was about to cry at any second, hand on the glass. He could understand him. Lance’s state was bad. He wasn’t sure on how to comfort the Yellow Paladin. Ever since Lance had been captured, Hunk had barely talked to anyone, and if he did, it was usually Pidge when she needed some help on a project.

He still tried to get Hunk’s attention though, hoping it would help in some way, and almost parrotted Coran word for word, telling him it was wiser to go wash. That it was actually wise for all of them to do so.

He was, after all, pretty sure Lance would complain about how gross they were, if they stayed this way until he came out.

.

And how did they wait for him to come out.

The Blades had gone away as soon as the Pod released their brother in arms. None of the members of the flock had managed to have proper rest. Shiro knew that when he woke up because of nightmares, this time, it wasn’t only nightmares of Galra. He couldn’t shake the memories of how he had found Lance. The way his pale, almost discolored blue eyes seemed to look past him. The blood he had had on his armor, from keeping the boy close.

But now, they all were in front of the pod. Lance was going to come out any seconds. They all were excited about getting their friend back.

When Shiro had entered the room, he wasn’t surprised to see he was the second one to arrive. Or, well, third, if he counted Coran, who barely left the room in the first place. When he got in, he was fast asleep on a makeshift bed. The exhaustion had finally caught up to him. He didn’t find it in him to go wake Coran up.

The first Paladin in the room had been Hunk. Even though the damage on Lance’s wings was still there- his feathers would have to regrow by themselves, apparently -it was the happiest he had seen Hunk in the past few weeks. For the first time in what felt like forever, Hunk had looked at him, right in the eyes, and gave him a small smile before greeting him.

It had been the smallest of things, but it had stunned Shiro.

He didn’t want to think about it too much, though. He greeted Hunk back. He was more excited about having Lance back with them. The others had joined soon after.

The pod’s door slid open. The fresh air brushed over their faces, making all of them puff up their wings. They could finally see Lance without having the foggy glass blocking him. He looked much better.

A few feathers were starting to grow back already, he had all of his nails back, and anything broken was as good as new. Even if he still looked pale, his face had regained a much healthier color already.

Lance started falling forward. Hunk and Shiro caught him at unison, before gently kneeling him on the ground.

Hunk instantly cried out Lance’s name, and kept him close to his chest. It was the biggest hug Shiro had ever seen from Hunk. Before he understood what had happened, he got dragged by the wrist and forced to join the hug.

Shiro tensed at first, but quickly relaxed, letting the warmth and affection flow through him. He let himself enjoy both Hunk’s hugs and Lance’s hair and feathers tickling his cheeks. Soon after, Pidge, dragging Allura with her, joined in, making it their biggest cuddle pile ever since Keith decided to leave for the Blades. It felt like forever since they got any kind of moment like this.

It felt nice.

Shiro almost wanted to wake Coran up, just so he could join in.

Lance was still pretty lax from getting out of his forced sleep, and was probably putting his ideas together.

However, once he fully woke up… Lance didn’t return the hug. On the contrary. He tensed up. Hard. Shiro felt the other’s wings clasp against his back, pulling the tickling feathers away from his face. Then, after a small silence when they realized something was wrong, Lance screamed, shaking more than ever, trying to push them off.

The effect was immediate. Everyone jumped away, as if they had been burnt, and turned toward Coran, who woke up startled. The Altean came stumbling toward the group.

As soon as the touches left him, Lance quieted down. Where was he? Did it still hurt? No. Why? He felt weak- his hands were free-

_His hands were free!_

He clasped them together, counting his fingers. He counted them over and over again. Ten. He had ten fingers. He still had his ten fingers. They weren’t gone. His hands were still whole. It was hard to breathe. The relief of knowing he had all of his fingers tightened his throat. He was still unable to see. He had all of his fingers.

“Lance, my boy.”

Any kind of relief he could have felt vanished.

The hallucinations were back already? They were taking the form of his teammates now. He curled up on himself, trying to back away in one of the corners of Eternity.

But he never hit the walls. He stumbled over some kind of step. Where was he? This wasn’t Eternity. Was he back in the _other room_? When was the druid going to come? Was it normal he wasn’t bound in any way? What was this place? What was going to happen to him?

“Lance,” It was Shiro, now. Would he see a deformed, scarred face of the Black Paladin? Would it tell him that he didn’t belong to the team? “Lance. You’re safe.”

 _What?_ Lance paused. Wasn’t the hallucination going to hurt him? “You’re safe.” Shiro- was it really him?- repeated. “You are in the Castle. We brought you back.”

Was… was that true? Lance’s breathing quieted down as he tried to take in the new feelings under his fingerprints, the new smell, the other noises he could hear.

He heard someone sniff, close to him, before he was wrapped in strong arms again. Lance sucked in a breath. He’d recognize these hugs anywhere, even when he couldn’t see. “Hunk.”

The head on his shoulder gave out a tiny nod, and Lance felt hunk’s hair and headband rub against his cheek.

So he really was back to the Castle? Was he really safe? It wasn’t another hallucination?

The arms around him started to feel uncomfortable. Even if they made him realize where he really was… he didn’t want to be touched. He was going to be hurt sooner or later. His wings were going to get damaged. “Hunk.” He repeated, voice shaking.

His best friend pulled away, keeping a hand on his shoulder while the other came on the side of his face. “Yeah, buddy?”

It was becoming harder and harder for him to breathe. He was going to get hurt. His hair was going to be pulled. He was going to be electrocuted. His feathers were going to be plucked out. He opened a trembling mouth. His voice came out quiet. Terrified. “Please don’t touch me.”

Hunk didn’t reply anything. He just moved his hands away, quietly. It calmed Lance down immediately.

The room kept silent too, for a few, heavy seconds, until Coran stepped up close to Lance, so he would know someone was there. When he spoke, his voice was dragging. He sounded exhausted. “Lance, my boy. How do you feel?”

Scared. He didn’t want to be touched. But he knew it wasn’t what Coran would have liked to hear. “It…” Lance’s voice got caught up in his throat. His heartbeat was getting faster. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. I can’t see.”

Was it normal? If he could hear again, why couldn’t he see? He had been in the pod, right? The presence in front of him moved away, and Lance found it easier to breathe. A few beeps sounded off behind him. Coran was most likely checking up the pod’s diagnosis. Lance pictured him stroking his mustache, as he was going over the readings, as he did every so often when he was focused.

“Ah!” The Altean exclaimed suddenly. “Indeed! All of you have been healed, including your optic nerves and the wounds on your wings. However, you’ll have to recover your eyesight and feathers the old fashioned way!”

Lance curled his wings around himself. He didn’t have his feathers anymore? He passed his hands in his wings, and when he found a batch of feathers, curled his hands around them, tugging slightly. Would he ever be able to fly again? His primaries had been clipped. He wasn’t- he wouldn’t be able to taste the sky ever again.

What if he never saw again either? Wouldn’t he ever be able to just look down to his hands? How would he live without seeing? What good could he do? He wasn’t anything without his eyes- wait. Did that… did that mean he would never be allowed to pilot a Lion? He… he had to go see Red!

Had Red even made it safely to the Castle? What if he had doomed her by just sending her away? What was going to happen then? He had to make sure Red was okay. Red wouldn’t hurt him if he was touching her, right? Red was a sentient spaceship. Not a sentient human or alien, right?

He tried to stand up, but his head started spinning, and his brain started playing yo-yo with the place it was supposed to stay in. He stumbled backward, and felt the world tilting. Two hands grabbed his wrists in time, locking him into place and keeping him on his two feet. It was two warm hands, large enough for the fingers to meet around his arm. Hunk. Warm Hunk. Touching him.

As soon as the world stopped spinning, Lance snapped his hands to his chest, nearly tearing them away from Hunk’s grasp. He kept them close, and counted his fingers. Ten. He shrunk down on himself, trembling from his head to the tip of his wings. He brought his head down, and muttered an apology. Hunk was probably feeling a bit bad about it. His silence to this all was enough of an indication. It made Lance feel guilty.

But he didn’t want to be touched. He… he had said it. He didn’t want to be touched.

“Come on, Lance,” Allura spoke up, she was there too? Had he missed anyone else? “Let’s bring you to your room, you must be exhausted.”

A snort sounded off next to where Allura’s voice had come from. Pidge. He’d recognized that half snort, half scoff of disbelief anywhere, too.

“You’re one to speak.” She said. Lance went over his fingers again, slowly, noticing Pidge’s voice didn’t seem to be turned toward him. “You can barely stand on your own two feet because you pushed yourself too hard!”

He heard Allura stammer some incoherent blabber. She was either at loss of words, or very embarrassed. Either way, he could picture a lovely pink shading her cheeks to the color of her marks.

A low, reassuring chuckle came from behind him. Shiro. He felt the man approach him. He tensed, ready to flinch away from touch, but Shiro didn’t even seem to think about touching him. He appreciated the gesture, but he still tried to put some distance between them.

“I’m going to accompany Lance to his room.” Shiro said. “Then _all_ -” He seemed to point the words at someone. He didn’t know who. “- of us will get some rest.”

.

“Shiro?”

Lance had just sat down on his bed. Shiro had led him through the corridors, telling him when to turn and where to go. It felt weird being able to sit back into his nest. It was soft. Full of blankets. And from memory, he knew he had hidden some of his flock’s shiny trinkets just to feel surrounded by family when he was sleeping.

Common nests weren’t exactly a thing between them. If he was being honest, right now, he couldn’t feel more glad that his nest was a solitary one. He was too afraid to be with the others. But that fear worried him.

He knew he had the man’s attention.

“Will I ever get back to normal?... Like I was before?”

He heard Shiro suck in a breath.

He shouldn’t have asked the question. It was stupid. Of course, it was. What was he thinking? Especially to Shiro. He had had enough to deal with. The Galra, being the head of Voltron, his strong headaches and saving him had most likely put a toll on him as well. How selfish could Lance be?

He counted his fingers- ten. Hadn’t Coran told him he would be back to normal mere minutes ago? He would just have to wait until his sight and feathers grew back? That was it. When Lance would see again, everything would be back to normal.

“Lance…” Shiro began with a quiet, frail voice. It sounded like the man was about to break at any seconds. “I… I don’t know. It’s…”

He paused a second, collecting himself.

“I’m still wondering it myself.”

There was a long silence between them. Shiro cleared his voice. “Well then… I… probably should be going.”

One more silence.

“I know it’s hard. If you ever need to speak about anything… or if you want to spend some time together, my door is right in front of yours, alright?”

Shiro sounded so hopeful. Lance felt even worse for worrying him of all people with his stupid problems. Why couldn’t he manage something that simple? He still nodded. He didn’t think he would ever dare bother Shiro with his problems again, but at least, acknowledging his proposition seemed to satisfy Shiro. He could hear the smile in his voice as he bid him goodnight.

Lance felt miserable. He didn’t want to be touched. For sure, he would disappoint Shiro by not coming. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to be hurt. Especially by Shiro’s hand. He couldn’t bring himself to. He was so stupid. He was giving false hope to Shiro.

Lance curled up in his nest, barely caring for discomfort in his wings. Exhaustion started rolling off him like a wave. He felt sleep take over slowly. He felt the comfort of his nest, the smell of the Castle. Parts of his flock was making up the nest, it was like being with them, but not being touched. He could count ten fingers.

“Lance!”

His mind had barely started drifting off. He sat up abruptly in the bed. His eyes were probably wide. It didn’t matter. He could only see the dark Eternity had cast upon him. As well as a Face. Smiling. Showing him all of its teeth. A cruel smile. It opened his mouth.

“Hello, Lance.”

 

* * *

 

His best friend had rejected contact from him.

 _Lance_ rejected contact with him.

Hunk didn’t know what to do anymore. He thought… he thought that when Lance would come back, everything would be back to normal. He thought they’d have some time together to hug it out, let the stress they both had felt during these two weeks fade away through a good preening session. Or a massage.

He thought that, even a bit later, he’d be back to jokingly nudging Pidge around, where they’d play together and slap each other on the arms at a good joke.

He thought that he’d be all over Shiro and Allura soon enough, relaxing them with his magic fingers. He’d wash the stress off their wings, or would throw a casual arm around their shoulder, boasting off after a particularly successful mission, when no one would get hurt.

He thought that he’d be brushing his wings against Coran, when he’d notice him feeling a bit down, and they would go sit together to stargaze, shoulder against shoulder, wings entangled as a father and son would.

But… nothing was back to normal.

_“Please don’t touch me.”_

He had been selfish enough to not think about how Lance himself felt after this. No amount of cooking could take his mind off it.

His best friend had been captured by the enemy because he hadn’t heard him call out for them. Because he was a coward. He was only thinking of saving himself. And then… and then he dared think that Lance would come back perfectly fine, and that he’d hug him tight like before. That he would tell him everything would be for the better. That he would ease out his anxiousness before it even started to show, like before.

What kind of friend was he even? Hunk felt disgusting. He was a selfish, greedy, disgusting human being. No amount of good actions would ever make up for this.

The spoon he was holding fell to the ground, slipping off his hand. Hunk couldn’t care less. His world was becoming blurry. He could hardly breathe.

As his wings started quivering, his knees gave out under him. He fell heavily on the ground, bringing the unfinished meal with him down. It fell with a loud clatter, and the dish broke.

But Hunk didn’t bring himself to care. He started gasping for air, hands going up in his hair to grip tightly his locks.

He was a terrible friend. The least he could do was listen to Lance

_“Please don’t touch me.”_

Hunk broke down. He sobbed his heart out, head in his knees, tugging at his hair, and wings quivering from guilt.

There was no meal ready for the team the next time they came in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Slowly, the team began picking up bad habits.

Lance never really wandered off his room, only coming out when guilt was too strong, when Shiro asked him to. Most of the time, he would find food on the side of his door. He didn’t like it. It reminded him too much of the appearing food in Eternity. The tastes were also quite similar. Mostly goo. It was slightly less disgusting than the one in Eternity, maybe. He guessed that, at least, whoever was bringing him food told him when they did. And it was regular… At least he thought it was.

Shiro came to see him less and less, though. His headaches were becoming worse and, in the end, Shiro would end up staying in his room, afraid he would snap at someone because he didn’t manage to keep his cool. He didn’t dare ask for help, too ashamed and scared they would tell him he was weak.

Hunk was looking like a zombie. He never really spent time doing anything. He didn’t leave his bed. The last time someone had seen him outside the forced training sessions, he had been wandering aimlessly in the hallways. He didn’t seem to know where he was going. He held off from touching anyone, hands to himself. He was always nervously fiddling with something in his hands. He didn’t cook anymore. It felt like the joy of the team had been sucked out when Hunk had stopped cooking.

Allura did get better after resting, but kept spending all of her energy, but she kept spending it all training, helping out Lotor or putting the Castle away from enemies. She never really stopped her diplomatic work either, leading video-meetings with their allies to keep supporting the Coalition’s cause. They never got to see their flockmate Allura anymore. Just Princess Allura of Altea.

Pidge was no better. She practically didn’t sleep anymore. She stayed up all night, scribbling codes away or updating their map with the information Lotor regularly sent them from his ship. She worked until exhaustion, where she would just fall asleep on the spot, and wake up to take care of her primary needs- if she thought of it. She definitely had forgotten food more than once. Her glasses seemed even bigger on her thin face.

And Coran… Coran was alone. Alone to take care of a big castle. Alone to prepare food for the paladins. Alone to remember Altra and his fallen friends. Alone to sing songs that didn’t cheer him up anymore. Alone to repair the big legacy his Grandpa had given him. Coran could only sing happy tunes on a broken record.


	8. Chapter 8

Voltron was falling apart.

Lance, even blind, could see that much.

He felt incredibly guilty for it, too, and it pushed him to question his place on the team all over again.

When Lance had first come up to Red, he was nervous. More than usual. Even more than when the faces were still plaguing him, stealing away his sleep. He was afraid that, when he’d reach his hand forward to Red, he would meet a barrier. Or that he wouldn’t reach anything at all, considering the others hadn’t told him  _ anything _ about Red’s whereabouts.

As he kept walking, he felt a purr of excitement reach to him; Red was okay.

Red was even welcoming him back. And more.

He heard the Lion crouch down, inviting him to step up to the cockpit- which he did. He had been stepping up in Red’s cockpit for so long he didn’t even make any clumsy steps. He had it down to muscle memory.

When he sat down, his hands fell naturally to the handles. He was sitting in Red, reading for battle, looking as if nothing had been wrong ever. But everything had.

He let go of the controls, clasping his hands together. He caressed each finger slowly, counting them with attention. Red sat back up, or he thought she did. Excitement filled his head.

Soon after, he was bombarded with flashes of light- a soft one. He could see the hangar. It looked tiny from where he stood, as usual, but he felt like the vision was slightly blurred on the side of his eyes.

He was seeing through Red’s eyes.

He felt a smile and tears creep up his face. He could see! Red could help him see! He could still be part of Voltron, he could still be a Paladin. Red was accepting him.

He started giggling, tears now definitely rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t be completely useless, if Red was giving the Gift of sight.

He thanked his Lion countless times, ending up curled up in his seat, bawling his eyes out. He could still have some use to the team. He would make it worth it.

However, as great as seeing could be again, when it came down to fight, it was a different matter. Being able to aim while connected on a deeper bond with Red was hard. Everything was so similar, but slightly different. A difference that ruined any kind of skill Lance could have had before. His first fights had been the first stumbles down to the stairs of disasters.

He barely managed to hit the enemies. Sometimes, Red’s speed became too much and he could feel his guts twisting in fear- how stupid was that? He had no problems with Red’s speed before. So why now?

When he did slow down, out of stupid,  _ stupid _ fear, Red would always be hit by the enemies. Thankfully, only by small lasers whose owner was going to be taken out in the next seconds, but it didn’t prevent any damage to be done. Even if Red seemed to be holding up alright at it, she still sent waves of frustration and irritation right into his brain when she was forced to slow down, and ended up bruised for complying.

It made Lance feel terrible.

He felt even worse when Hunk wouldn’t join after a mission, or that the whole team would snap at each other when they used to congratulate each on their feats.

Again, it was mostly Lance’s fault. It was always because he was too slow, didn’t aim good, got scared of speed. The others said nothing about it, but their silence was enough for Lance. Sometimes, a Face would appear out of nowhere. That’s when he would freeze. That’s when he didn’t come out of Red, or would go back to his room immediately after the fight. He would count his fingers all night hoping not too many Faces would show up. They impersonated his family, his flock. Always bringing Lance down.

Somehow, Lance started to believe them. Sure, Red was still accepting him. But for how long? He was scared of speed, ever since they shared sight. Red was living for speed. The team was often asking for help throughout the fight, and he couldn’t manage to do so properly. What kind of Paladin was he, now? Unable to protect his teammates in combat. Unable to be a decent human being outside of combat.

That night, even though no Face came to haunt him, he stayed curled up in his nest, counting his fingers one by one. Ten. They were ten. It was real. He really was that much of a boulder for Voltron.

_ Because of him, Voltron was drifting apart _ .

.

Lasers were shooting everywhere. They seemed brighter and meaner through Red’s eyes. It was overwhelming. Lance could feel bile rise up in his throat. Not quite enough to throw up. Not quite enough to be able to ignore it. His throat was burning. He could feel that his flock wasn’t holding much better than he was. All of them seemed not to be able to focus on the fight. Or if they did, they weren’t watching out for each other.

A bright light - purple - came straight toward him. Instead of avoiding it, or trying his best to do so, Lance froze. He was back in Eternity. Right as he escaped. The light was flooding every part of his being. The Druid touched his wings. He felt it.

The laser hit Red right in the face.

The impact was strong enough Lance was sent out of his chair, head crashing painfully against the control panels. Even if it did hurt, he was still able to move around, and think clearly… As clearly as he could after a shock like that.

He had to move. Go back to Red’s seat. Go back to the fight… but he couldn’t.

He didn’t manage to get up. He didn’t even manage to control his breathing. His heart wasn’t slowing down. All he could think of was the burning light, and the darkness. The touches. The Druid.

A face appeared.

Lance counted his fingers.

.

The situation was bad. It had been a long time since they had been this overwhelmed while fighting in their Lion. It was true that maybe they were getting out of shape. Shiro had to admit he had shrunk down the numbers of team training by… a lot, lately.

His head kept pounding more and more, and always at the worse moment.

Seeing his flock so down all the time also took its toll on him. He didn’t know how to comfort them. When anyone was feeling below the weather, it always was Lance or Hunk that approached them.

But ever since Lance was brought back… both of them seemed so… broken. He didn’t know what to do. It had been  _ weeks _ since Lance was brought back. Why was everything only becoming worse?

Shiro had lost count of how many times he had wanted to shake Hunk up from his apparently everlasting pity-party. He just wanted to scream in frustration. His flock felt all  _ wrong, wrong, wrong. _ Could he even still call them a flock? They barely interacted at all.

The pounding against his temple worsened, almost making a screeching sound from the insides of his skull. He had to focus. But it was hard to. All he could see was Hunk flying off, fighting by himself. Pidge and Allura were side by side but barely noticed each other. They almost ran into each other, more than once, and if it wasn’t for their Lions’ jerky reflexes, they would have been in big trouble. And Lance.

Lance had just been hit by a laser.

Shiro screamed his name, headache almost forgotten from the fear that dropped down and scrunched his guts with an ice-cold hand.

Whatever enemy stood in his way got obliterated as he pressed the Black Lion to reach Red as fast as it could. “Lance!” He shouted again, flipping his com on. “Are you okay?!”

Red was unmoving. As if she had been shut or powered down. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t possibly have; the lights of her eyes were still burning bright yellow.

Shiro could hardly hear Lance out. At least, the other’s bickering had started fading into silence. He could hear Lance saying something, but all of it seemed like incoherent mumbles to him. He focused on it some more, fiddling with his helmet, hoping it’d help with the reception.

While doing so, he had tried calling out to Lance again. The boy only kept mumbling. He didn’t even seem to notice him worrying. Nor how close the Lions were to touching. 

“... Eight… Nine… Ten.”

Ten? What was Lance counting? Why did he sound so panicked? Was it the enemy? Shiro turned his Lion around.

There was far more than ten enemies around them for sure. Less than ten cruisers, too. But the barrage of lasers was getting denser. That was anything but good. It most likely meant more cruisers were on their way. It was a common Galra practice to just send the disposables first. They would need to form Voltron.

Speaking of which, Pidge, Allura, and Hunk had gathered closer to each other, around Lance. They were still pretty much distracted, running all over each other, but at least now they weren’t throwing jabs at each other while making a poor excuse of a fight. They probably were listening.

Another laser came straight toward him and the Red Lion. Without thinking, he pushed Lance and himself out of the way. He interrupted Lance counting and recounting at seven. The bump had made him squeak out. What even was he counting to begin with? It wasn’t of any importance at the moment! “Lance!” He finally snapped, his headaches and anxiousness getting the better of him. He already regretted his next choice of words. “Stop wasting time. We need to fight and form Voltron!”

He heard a hiccup in the comm. He really hated having to speak like this to his team,  _ especially _ Lance. But reinforcements were going to come any time soon. A quiet, distressed “Sorry” came through, and Red started moving again. However, none of those were the smooth moves he had been used to with Lance.

This wasn’t good. He would need to go past his will to not be around people and his headaches to check up on Lance. It wouldn’t be too bad, though, probably. Right. He had overcome the Galra someway, Lance would probably manage with even more ease. 

“Team, group up!”

That’s when the cruisers arrived. Without having to say a word, the team was already in formation. It most likely was instinct by now, but seeing that they all could still get in formation reassured Shiro.

He counted six cruisers in total.

Shiro tightened his grip on the handles of the Black Lion. It was time. “Alright team… Form Voltron!”

All the lions surged forward as one. Shiro opened his mind to both Black and the others. With Voltron, those cruisers wouldn’t stand a chance.

He relaxed into the reach of the others, feeling all the Lions get closer, starting to shift to transform.

However, just like a string would have snapped, everything stopped at once. Shiro’s headache increased tenfolds, and he could feel phantom pains and feelings all over him. He glanced down at his fingers. They were all there. Before he allowed himself to assess the situation, he did quick breathing exercises. He needed to shake away the despair, anxiety, and exhaustion to were already starting to fade away.

What had happened? When he looked out, there were still five Lions standing close. Judging from the harsh breaths and whimpers coming from his helmet, the rest of the team had experienced exactly the same thing as him.

The anxiety, however, didn’t get to leave at all. They hadn’t formed Voltron.

They had  _ failed _ to form Voltron.

If what he felt was any indicator, it wasn’t only one of them that didn’t manage to concentrate enough on forming Voltron, it had been the whole team. The whole team had failed.

The Galra cruisers only kept coming closer.

When had his flock been picked apart so much? Why couldn’t they trust each other anymore? Why couldn’t he bring himself to trust them anymore?

Shiro could only watch the cruisers light up with a dry throat. Six little dots of light illuminated above the ships. The ion cannons.

Shiro was frozen in place. He could feel his heartbeat increasing, suffocating him. They had to move!  _ He _ had to move! But his arms were paralyzed. They hadn’t managed to form Voltron. He hadn’t managed to trust his team- his flock- enough to form Voltron. Why didn’t he notice that before? Why hadn’t he tried harder? Such a leader he was being.

The cruisers shot. Time took back its course. 

Shiro did the first thing that came to his mind. He had to protect his flock.

Wings tight with fear, he swiftly moved the Black Lion in front of all the others. He could only watch the increasing purple light wash over him, until he finally cried out in pain. His whole world faded to darkness, and, finally, the headache was gone.

.

Lance hadn’t understood what happened. Even if he could hardly breathe and was certain some of his fingers were missing, he had done like usual to form Voltron.

It didn’t work. He could feel Red’s confusion about it. Why had they all pulled away so suddenly, forcing the Lions to switch back to their natural form?

He felt things that weren’t his. Emotions, pain. It was his flock’s. The headache had been Shiro’s for sure. He hadn’t expected the overwhelming amount of feelings from the others.

He felt Pidge’s irritation toward herself, how she would throw fits and start plucking her feathers one by one until she got what she was doing right. How disgusted she was seeing herself in the mirror.

Lance’s wings shuddered at that. Their state wasn’t any better.

He felt Allura’s dullness. How she would retreat behind diplomatic work to keep going forward. She didn’t want her feelings getting in the way. How terribly alone she felt each time she would sleep.

Lance could only feel the same, somehow. He longed for contact and reassurance. The Faces’ touches were in no way helping. He didn’t want to be touched.

He felt Shiro’s worry. How scared he would get when snapping at someone. He was too stubborn and refused to open about his past. But it was there. It was overwhelming. Lance felt a sense of irony. It was overwhelming for him as well. But before the… before Eternity, Shiro had refused to go to see him when he proposed his help. He had accepted spending more time preening together at the time, though.

And lastly, he felt Hunk’s despair. It wasn’t a nice emotion for his best friend. He saw how much he had broken down, alone. He had passed days and night curled up under his wings, beating himself up. He was perpetually in a state of hunger and disgust. He had started pulling some of his feathers out as well, and if he didn’t, he would destroy his projects because of an emotional burst. Hunk was far past anxiousness. He was getting to bad places.

Lance wondered where it came from; He had never seen Hunk that way. He didn’t understand when his best friend, always trying to cheer people up with big hugs became so reserved and small.

As he connected back with Red, sharing her eyes, still perturbed by the foreign thoughts and feelings, he only got to see six purple lights coming straight toward them. Then four Lions simultaneously making a body barrage in front of him.

Purple was everywhere and, for an instant, Lance’s world faded back to black.

_ “Please don’t touch me.”  _

_ He never heard Hunk speaking to him again after that _ .

He had refused hugs from Hunk. It had messed Hunk up. He had broken Hunk.

He had refused to get help from Shiro. Shiro had ended up shutting himself out of the team, keeping everything to himself. Even the tiniest of details.

He had stopped going to Pidge. She only got frustrated at herself and started neglecting herself again.

He had stopped playfully speaking with Allura. She didn’t even try to enjoy herself anymore. She had closed off.

He had stopped hanging out with Coran. Every time the old man tried to make a joke, or say something uplifting, he had never heard the smile in his voice.

Lance realized.

He had been the one breaking Voltron apart.

His friends were hurt. His flock had been destroyed. His comm was silent. But all of them were alive. Gravely hurt, maybe, but alive.

And Lance swore. If he had brought them apart, he would bring them together again. As for now… he saw red.

His flock, his  _ family _ had been hurt by the Galra. Through Red’s eyes, everything became clearer for him. The blurry filter that was between them cleared up. He could feel everything Red was feeling. He was one, body and mind, with Red. 

Those Galra were going to  _ pay. _

With a cry full of rage, Lance propelled themselves forward, adrenaline pumping into them. The smaller ships exploded one after the others, and, soon enough, he had reached the first cruiser. He melted a hole through the main engine, and flew off, witnessing the first explosion out of the six that were going to come. 

Lance had never been faster. Lance had never been this aggressive. Thoughtless.

But he would be. He would be for his flock. He would be to protect them. To keep them alive.  _ To bring them back. _

He had unconsciously dealt a bad blow to his flock. He would make up for it.

With Red, they turned to the remaining cruisers. They wanted to take his flock away. The few feathers standing on his wings puffed up as he opened them. A threat. A challenge. He would  _ destroy _ them.

In tune with Red, Lance growled.

No one touched his flock.  _ No one. _

He would win this fight, no matter how hurt he was. And then… he would make everything normal again.

He would give great hugs to Hunk. He would clean off Pidge’s wings. He would have spa days with Allura. He would share stories and legends with Coran. He would go to Shiro. Both of them would work out the mess they had in their heads. He would have Shiro’s clumsy attention on him.

Lance and Red roared to battle.


	9. Chapter 9

Back to the darkness of his own two eyes, Lance could hear the various beeps and gurgles coming from the four pods in the room. He knew that Coran was pacing around, quiet, checking on everyone’s vitals.

Lance already had had confirmation that once they would be out of there, they would be in top-notch condition. Even Shiro, who had been gravely injured and burnt by the laser. He wouldn’t even have a scar of it.

When he brought back the Lions, with the help of Coran, he felt glad he was currently blind. From the Altean’s reaction when he arrived - a loud breath sucked in, and a tremor in his voice when he spoke up until they were in the pods - the sight had not been a pretty one.

He listened to Coran babbling away, until he got quiet. Lance didn’t like it. Coran was like him. He chatted his worries and thoughts away. Well, his past him did. 

Even though his wings were tight with nervousness, and that he could hear Coran typing up something, Lance opened his mouth, breathing in. “Coran?”

The typing stopped abruptly. For a second, he couldn’t even hear Coran breathing at all. The old Altean hadn’t expected him to talk it seemed. It made Lance feel guilty. He hadn’t spoken to Coran directly ever since he came out of the pods after Eternity. It was really time he fixed his mistakes. Coran exhaled. “Yes, my boy?”

Lance licked his lips. His throat was dry. Why was he getting anxious just over asking simple questions? Come on. He passed his hands on his fingers. He could do it. “Could… could you tell me a story, please?”

More silence answered him. A longer one, this time. Coran was just not moving. Or saying anything. Lance wasn’t too sure about how Coran was going to react. Heck, he wasn’t even sure of how he was currently reacting right now! What was his face like? Were his giant wings tight against his back? Were they relaxed? Would he agree? Would he get angry? Would he hate him for bringing Voltron apart and hurting the important members?

Soft steps came toward him, and he tensed. He curled over his legs, and tried to hide his wings. Had he messed up? Was Coran going to yell at him? 

Lance winced as he felt the injuries from the battle shift and rub against each other. It hurt. He could still feel the blood seeping in the pod suit he was wearing.

Coran stopped right in front of him, and, if Lance could interpret the small gush of wind he felt, he had crouched. Lance’s wings snapped closer. 

He knew this was Coran, right in front of him, but the presence reminded him too much of the Druid’s looming one.

He felt a warm hand on his forearm, slightly under it, and Coran helped him stand up.

He still hadn’t said anything, though. He was just conveying through touches that he had to stand up- he didn’t want to be touched. Even if the hand felt warm and welcoming. He was so tense his muscles were getting sore- they hurt. He bled. It hurt. The touches were making him feel hurt. He didn’t want to be touched.

_ “Please don’t touch me.” _

But he had to be touched. Or else he’d never bring Voltron back. He would never fix his mistake. His breath shortened. It was so scary to be touched but he had to.  _ He had to _ . He played with his fingers, in the hope it would calm him down. Ten. Everything would be alright, if he had ten fingers… right? Did he really have ten fingers? He counted again. Coran’s hand was still on him.

“My boy…” Coran finally said. A face appeared behind Lance’s eyelids- were his eyes closed? Was he staring off into space, where a Face was staring? Why was the Face mimicking Coran when the man spoke? It even mimicked his mustache. The Face’s one was oddly pink, however. It didn’t matter. The Face was coming closer. It would hurt him. Coran would hurt him. Because he broke Voltron apart. Because he had been useless for too long. Because he  _ was _ useless. “... I would love to tell you all the stories in the world, and I will.”

The Face’s smile disappeared the first time. Then, as Coran guided him gently forward, an extremely soft touch of an immense wing caressed his. The Face disappeared with a grimace of pain, and left him to Darkness. “But you first need to get into a pod, Lance. You’re hurt and bleeding.”

As soon as Lance put his foot into the pod, Coran let go of him. It relaxed him, but Lance couldn’t help but missing terribly the soft touch of feathers on his almost bare wings.

When Lance would get out of the pod, far before the others, Coran didn’t try to touch him anymore. But he did count him the tales of how young Prince Alfor and himself and been royally grounded by his Pop-pop Wimbleton, when they had tried to replace his nunvil liquor by an infusion of juniberry leaf.

.

When the rest of the team came out of the pods, Lance didn’t know what to say. 

If he had slightly relaxed thanks to Coran’s stories, the silence that came between the flock afterward made him tenser than ever. They had almost died because of him. He felt Hunk move close to him, but his best friend stopped almost instantly when Lance took the slightest of steps back.

He wasn’t ready for Hunk’s hugs quite just yet. Hearing his best friend put distance between them without a word afterward still broke his heart. Guilt dropped down in his stomach. He had just told himself he would go back to normal, and there he was, unable to bring himself to be hugged by his  _ best friend _ . He stayed tense, wings almost quivering and tears just about ready to drop until he reached his room.

Once inside, he sat down in his nest, silently, hoping to cry it out. But no tears came out. He couldn’t bring himself to cry. How terrible and pathetic was he, not to be able to give hugs? To Hunk, no less, who had never tried to hurt him in his life. At least not on purpose. He could still remember his friend’s tears on his shoulder when he saw the bruises he had given him when he had been mind-swished. Lance hadn’t been able to get past his fears, in any cases.

But he knew someone that would help him.

And he knew that he could help that someone back at the same time.

Lance stood back up, and intertwined his fingers together. Ten. He could do this.

Breathing in deeply, he passed through his room’s door, and reached his hands forward until they bumped into the metallic panel of the door in front of his. Alright. Alright, he was going to do it.

Lance knocked, snapping his hands together right after. Still ten fingers. He was actually doing it. He was anxious. He knew that they had the conversation before, but what if he refused? No. No, everything would be alright. They were a flock, weren’t they?

The door swished open.

“Lance?” The other sounded surprised. It was understandable. Lance had been breaking Voltron apart by not being himself, his past self anymore. But Lance was also determined to right his wrongs. He really hoped he would accept.

Lance inhaled shakily, looking up to where he had heard the voice. “Can I… can I still accept your offer to help me, Shiro?”

Shiro’s breath stuttered an instant, but his reply didn’t take one more second to be thought of. “Of course, Lance.”

And Lance could hear the warm and sincere smile in those three tiny words.

.

Shiro hadn’t touched him, at all. 

He had been invited to sit down on the bed, and talk.

At first, Lance had had some problems finding the words, and getting them out of his throat. However, after three sentences of stammered worries, he didn’t manage to stop his mouth anymore. He passed his hands on each finger, breaking down at the same time. There were the tears he thought he couldn’t shed.

He told everything; the interrogation, almost losing his fingers, Eternity, the Druid, the torture, the fear of touch, how useless he felt for breaking Voltron apart, how guilty he felt they all  _ nearly died _ for him, because of him. How much he wanted to be himself again, and not this fakey Lance he had become. How much he wanted himself, the real Lance, to come back.

Shiro listened to everything.

Not once had he tried to interrupt him, or hold him, keep him close, and  _ touch _ him.

It made Lance sad, somehow, as he really wanted to be held, knowing that Shiro was there,  _ really _ there. But he was also glad that Shiro just kept using words. Warm, reassuring words, instead of touches- he didn’t want to be touched.

His tears stopped by themselves as he kept speaking, reducing to a stuttering breath. “I… I-I just want to be me again. T-to preen with you. To give big hugs to Hunk. To nudge Pidge around. To make face masks with Allura. To listen to Coran’s stories next to him, while he bumped my shoulders.”

He hiccuped. “But I… I don’t want to be touched, Shiro. I don’t know what to do.”

He heard Shiro stepping forward, coming near him. The bed shifted next to him. Far enough for him to keep somewhat relaxed. He heard the Black Paladin breathe in deeply. His breath was shaky as well. Lance could only guess he had hit some sensitive spots for him as well.

“I…-” Shiro began, before interrupting himself. Lance forced his wings to relax visibly a bit, hoping it would encourage Shiro to keep going. It did. “I cannot help you for everything.” His voice was hesitant, lost in memories. “I’m still trying to… be the real Shiro, you know? The one before all this mess.”

Lance nodded. He knew. He was a bit disappointed to hear he wouldn’t actually be the real Lance anytime soon, but knowing he wasn’t alone feeling that way soothed him a bit. Both Shiro and himself would be trying their best. It was infinitely better than searching alone and clueless how to be like before.

He felt the bed shift slightly next to him again. “But…” Shiro continued, “I can try to make it easier for you to touch others, if you wish. My hand is right in front of your face.”

Immediately, Lance flinched away, relaxed wings snapping back against his back. Shiro wasn’t going to touch him, was he? Not right after he had explained how he felt? Was he going to get hurt-

“Don’t worry!” Shiro added quickly, stammering a little. He sounded embarrassed- no… guilty? “I hadn’t meant to startle you- it’s just…” He groaned. The sound was muffled- his hands probably. At least the hand wasn’t in front of him anymore. He didn’t want to be touched. Lance felt Shiro gaze at him. “Let me start over; instead of being touched, what if  _ you _ touched others first? I’m gonna put my hand in front of yours, if you want to try.”

Lance stayed silent, pondering the idea. He didn’t dare move, and his wings were still tight. He hadn’t thought of it that way. If he was the one touching, he was the one in control of the situation, right? That also meant he would be in control of whether it hurt or not, somehow, right?

Lance realized he had been contemplating the idea for too long when Shiro shifted again, a bit more stiffly than before. “O-of course, you don’t have to try.”

He probably had taken his hand away. Lance thought over the idea once more. Not only would he be in control, but he would be able to get non-hurtful touches. Could Shiro’s awkward and clumsy long fingers really hurt him? Especially if it was just his hand.

It didn’t have to be more. Shiro said that Lance would be the one deciding about the touch. Plus, even if Shiro was clumsy and awkward when they used to preen each other, he never actually hurt Lance. Shiro was mostly brushing his feathers, making them shiny while squeaking when he occasionally got one of his fingers tangled in a knot of feathers. He also knew that Shiro used to keep his best molted feathers somewhere in his room, just like Lance had Shiro’s. They used to make fun of each other by sticking each other feathers somewhere on their wing and parading around the Castle… At least Lance did. Shiro’s deal honestly sounded pretty solid.

Shiro cleared his throat, now definitely embarrassed by the situation. “I’m sorry.” He began. “I thought it would help and… yeah. Feeling in control helped me a lot after… that.” The bed weight shifted again. Shiro was getting up. Lance panicked.

“No!” He separated his hands from each other, to try to grab at where Shiro would be. It just happened to be his hand. His human one.

Shiro tensed up for a few seconds before almost immediately relaxing.

“Alright,” Shiro said, as he sat back down. Under his hands, Shiro opened his palm, slowly.

It felt… nice. Somehow, tingles went up to his arms. He… he had missed this. A lot.

Lance slowly caressed the palm, and went up Shiro’s fingers with his own - Shiro had five. He slowly opened one of his hands to ask for Shiro’s second one. With gentle words, Shiro told him that it was hovering his palm, and Lance counted the other fingers - five, again. That hand was cold, and whirred a bit when he moved Shiro’s fingers around.

He had been wary of it at first, but when his touches only met acceptance and patience, Lance didn’t manage to stop touching Shiro.

It was slow caresses on the fingers and palms at first, but they were working on it. He also had tried to speak some more with everyone. Even if it wasn’t the same as before -  _ yet _ , Lance kept telling himself - the team slowly started to open back to each other. It was strange. Nobody really initiated contact like before. Not really. It was like they were meeting each other all over again. They were shy, embarrassed, and often at loss of what to say.

Lance kept going to Shiro once their day was over. He couldn’t quite like the others, and preferred not to share what had happened to him with the mind-meld just yet. However, when Allura told him his feathers were starting to grow back and gain back their past, beautiful, blue and yellow colors, he had insisted to take back training. At least to strengthen his wings.

He was getting more comfortable with Shiro. Now, he took his hands with more confidence, and Shiro didn’t even tense up when he did. It relaxed both of them.

He was still scared of being directly touched, but with Shiro… Lance was always the one that could initiate the touches. He didn’t dare getting too close, but lately, he had felt brave enough to just close Shiro’s thumb over his hands.

It had taken a bit of time for Shiro to understand what he wanted, but soon enough, he was slowly rubbing his thumb over the back of Lance’s hand.

The more time passed, the more Lance found himself looking forward to relaxing with Shiro. For the first time since he had gotten taken by the Druid, his wings were getting lax. 

The touches went from the hands, to the arms, to the shoulders. But Lance didn’t want to be any closer. Not yet. Hugs were still too scary. However, often, when he would move his wings around, to a more comfortable position, he would feel the light tickle of someone else’s feathers. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t longing for that.

He wanted to be touched,  even if it was scary. He could nuzzle Shiro’s hands, now. It was an improvement but… he licked his lips, while Shiro was caressing tenderly his forearm. He didn’t even get to start speaking to get Shiro’s attention, that the man had noticed he wanted to say something. “Yes?”

There was a smile in his voice.

Lance blushed slightly; had he really been  _ that _ obvious? Oh, well… He supposed that being able to see something helped a lot noticing this kind of things. 

He still didn’t know how to formulate his question, though. It resulted in him opening and closing his mouth a few time, like a fish out of water. Could he really ask for that? It seemed pretty intimate. How could his past-self ask it so casually all the time? Shiro squeezed reassuringly his forearm.

Lance moved his fingers, making sure all ten of them were there- they were. He would do it. He took a big breath in and asked, with the steadiest voice he could manage: “Could I touch your wings?”

Shiro’s hands stilled, before retracting slightly. Without a word, the bed shifted, and a small gush of air brushed Lance’s face, ruffling through his locks.

When he put his hands forward, he touched soft feathers. A shiver ran both through Lance and Shiro. Both of them had missed this sort of intimacy more than they thought.

 

* * *

 

One of the nights Lance couldn’t sleep, he had decided to trek around the Castle, keeping a hand on the wall for directions, and heard some noise coming from further in the hall.

It was… unusual. Especially when everyone was supposed to be asleep.

He carefully made his way toward the noise, one step at a time. He had become much better at orienting himself through the long, long corridors. However, he still preferred to take it slow. He didn’t trust his muscle memory too much yet, and there were too many possibilities someone left something he wouldn’t -obviously- see on the ground. It had become a great help when Shiro would hold his hand in the halls to guide him around. Not only did he enjoy the touch, but it prevented him from running head-straight into walls. 

When he reached the end of the hall, he listened carefully for the noise again. His hearing had become much better ever since Eternity had blinded him. It came from the right. A creepy low-pitched sort of moan.

It may have spooked Lance slightly, but it wouldn’t make it back down. He counted his fingers, trembling a bit- ten. Alright. He… he could do this. He headed toward the noise.

Unless he was wrong, which was possible, since he wasn’t as precise as before without his visual memory, he must have been standing in front of the kitchen. While he came nearer, the noise had become less and less creepy. It became heart-wrenching instead. Even more so when he identified Hunk’s voice.

His best friend had been crying his heart out, alone, sobbing till he couldn’t breathe anymore. He was hiccuping, breathing harshly. Lance could hear him try to calm himself down through some controlled breathing, but it would stutter fast and Hunk was breaking down all over again.

Lance was glad he couldn’t see his best friend like that. He didn’t want to see him like that. Ever.

“L-L-Lance?”

Lance’s stomach dropped. Hunk sounded so… broken. He… he didn’t know what to do. That wasn’t true. He  _ knew _ , but he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t. He was scared. Trying to hug and failing would break Hunk even more.

_ “Please don’t touch me” _

Lance grimaced, stepping forward. He wasn’t sure if he was really looking at Hunk. He hoped he was. He tried a smile. It was no doubt a very awkward one. Especially when he heard Hunk breathe in sharply, and that he had to turn his head on the right to face him better. “Hey, buddy.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and uncomfortable, only interrupted by the sobs Hunk tried to keep down. Lance had to say something. He couldn’t leave Hunk like that. No way. Wings tense, counting his fingers, Lance cleared his throat. “S-so… um… can I sit somewhere?”

Chairs rattled and fell to the ground loudly as Hunk stood up. “Huh, yeah… s-sure.” 

A pause. Lance waited for more instruction. They didn’t come. He spoke up again, shifting awkwardly on his feet, fingers intertwined. “Can you… guide me?”

Hunk, before guiding him, lost himself in a flurry of apologies. Lance quickly found the chair in front of Hunk’s.

As soon as he sat back down, another tense silence settled in. Lance’s wings started cramping. He couldn’t believe he was that tense with his best friend. He kept his hands close, passing them over his fingers, trying to caress them like Shiro would have to relax him. It didn’t really work. Lance let out a choppy breath.

“Hunk, I’m… I’m really sorry.” He was about to keep going, try to explain, but Hunk interrupted him fast, after a nervous laugh.

“No… no. It’s okay! You didn’t want to be touched, but I did. It’s my fault! I should have been more careful, I’m sor-”

“ _ No! _ ”

Hunk shut up. Lance was breathless from shouting that one word. How could Hunk possibly  _ think _ it was his fault?! Tears started to drop down his eyes. He brought a hand - with five fingers - up to rub them off his eyes. Why did Hunk think that way?!

Hunk recovered fast from Lance’s outburst, however. “O-oh, Lance. I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to make you cry-” He groaned in his hands. It was muffled. “Such a best friend I am. First I make you uncomfortable, then I make you cry, gosh- I’m so sorr-”

“Enough with being sorry, Hunk!” Lance pleaded, wings tenser than they ever had been. It was starting to cramp down his shoulders and arms. Once again, Hunk went into a shocked silence. Lance took his chance to speak up. “It’s not your fault, okay? I’m scared, it’s all! It’s… it’s not your fault.”

He breathed in deeply. It was time he cheered his best friend up. However he could. He kept speaking. “I’m scared and… and I can’t see and… yeah, that sucks. But I’m working on it, I promise! You don’t know how much I  _ want _ to be touched! But it’s scary-” He paused an instant, getting sidetracked. He got an idea. “Listen. I’ve been trying to get used to touches with Shiro. Though it’s mostly holding hands, and sometimes me touching his wings. But… do you think that… Would… would you like to try that together?” He cleared his throat again, before Hunk could say or do anything. “I… huh… I need to initiate contact with you first though. Or else it makes me too nervous.”

Silence followed his speech. A long one. It was Lance uncomfortable. He flipped his wings, shifted in his seat. What was Hunk’s face like, right now? Would he accept? Refuse? Start crying again?

Lance’s throat was dry. What if he didn’t manage to cheer Hunk back? What if he never managed to heal, and stayed afraid for the rest of his life? Would he constantly be torn between touch-rejection and starvation?

Lance nervously counted his fingers, twice. But when no answer came, and when he still heard no sound from Hunk, he spoke up. “W-well? What do you think of it?”

The answer came almost instantly, hushed, full of tears,  _ broken _ . “Yes. Please.”

And Lance slowly took Hunk’s big, soaked and trembling hands in his.

 

* * *

 

Lance was enjoying the feeling of Shiro’s feathers on his face. They hadn’t been properly preened in a while, but Lance couldn’t exactly preen properly someone while being blind. So he enjoyed the tickles of Shiro’s feathers under his face and under his hands. They were soft.

Shiro’s wings were totally relaxed under his touch, and it made Lance strangely proud.

Shiro wasn’t relaxed often. There was always a bit of tension in his wings. He was always ready to fly away or get down to fight. But right now? Shiro was completely relaxed. His wings attested of that. So was Lance. 

He loved nuzzling Shiro’s feathers, touching them. He loved tracing them, remembering their shape. At first, touching Shiro’s primaries made him self-conscious about his own clipped ones. He felt awful knowing he most likely wouldn’t fly ever again. But Shiro had reassured him quickly. 

When he had felt Lance’s hands freeze on his wingbone, he had turned toward him, curious. As soon as he had seen Lance’s tears roll down his cheeks, he nudged slightly Lance’s now-clasped together hands with his own, asking for permission to hold them.

He quickly found his fingers being crushed Lance’s, as the boy spoke up. “What if they never grow back properly, Shiro?”

That’s when Shiro reciprocated the squeeze, and stuttered. Lance had come to learn that stutter by heart, with the time they had spent together, relaxing and sharing. It was when Shiro was going to share what had happened to him with the Galra. Shiro always was a bit scared and nervous speaking about it.

That day, Lance had learned that Shiro had been clipped as well. Just like Dr. Holt and Matt had been. But his primaries had grown back. They were chipped because of stress, and sometimes made him fly unsteady, but they had grown back and he could fly. Even since he had joined Voltron, he had molted more than once, and his feathers ended up growing back to normal. Just like they were before.

It had helped Lance a lot. It gave him hope. Maybe he would fly again. Since then, Lance never hesitated to rub his hands along Shiro’s wings, caressing them, nuzzling them. They were soft. He loved them. He always had.

Which brought him to that situation.

Lance was feeling drowsy, face against Shiro’s wing when he felt them shift slightly, tense up in a way Lance had never felt them do before.

As Lance straightened back up, he heard Shiro lick his lips. Then he turned toward him, finally speaking up. “Lance? … Can I touch you?” He sounded nervous. There was an unusual tremor in his voice. Weird.

Lance’s wings went closer to his back. Shiro’s nervousness was contagious. He nodded anyway. He trusted Shiro. He wouldn’t be hurt.

Shiro came closer, until their knees touched, and slowly raised his hands to touch Lance’s face. Lance appreciated that Shiro told him where he would touch him before doing so. Lance closed his eyes, to let himself enjoy the soft, clumsy touches that were so distinctly Shiro’s.

The man passed his hands in his hair, caressed his cheeks- to which Lance pressed his face back against. He liked being touched. Shiro brought his fingers over his eyes and nose. He was trembling. It was unusual.

Even if Lance thoroughly enjoyed being caressed that way, the nervousness down in his stomach increased, making knots. A lot of knots. His heartbeat picked up. It didn’t hurt. He didn’t mind it. Somehow, he was nervous, but not a bad kind of nervous. Shiro caressed his lips.

That’s when he felt a small puff of warm air near his face. Shiro was close. He heard him lick his lips again.

Instead of speaking right away, though, he brought their foreheads together. Shiro’s breath was unsteady. He was as nervous as Lance was. Shiro spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?”

The puff of the words fell against his lips. Lance’s heart beat faster than ever, as a burning smile parted his lips. He couldn’t help the best kind of hurt he felt in his cheeks, nor the nervous giggle that came out of his throat. What he could do, however, he did.

He brought his trembling hands to grab tenderly Shiro’s head, enjoying the short locks under his fingertips for the briefest of seconds, before he pulled him into a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Things changed for the better ever since he got together with Shiro. He started getting some of his old confidence back. He had recently managed to crack a joke in front of everyone. There had been a shocked silence in the room. It was Allura, of all people, that let out a very undignified laugh. Soon enough, everyone broke into laughter. Allura to the point of tears.

In all honesty, the joke hadn’t even been that funny to begin with.

But when Shiro described him how everyone’s wings had suddenly sagged and relaxed, Lance could confirm that when everyone laughed, it was out of relief too. Not only just hysteria.

A lot of them, if not all, had had troubles sleeping. Even more so since neither Hunk or Lance initiated much contact anymore.

That too, however, was changing.

After meeting Hunk in the kitchen, he had expanded the hand-holding sessions to everyone. Or tried to adapt the sessions to them. He would braid Allura’s hair, sometimes feel like Shiro when his fingers got stuck in locks. He knew that, in the end, it was probably bad-looking, since he couldn’t see what he was doing, but Allura never seemed to mind.

He would try to untangle Pidge’s messy feathers. She didn’t complain as much as before about it, only letting a small ‘ouch’ when he had to be a bit rougher to detangle them. She always thanked him afterward. She had expressed more than once how much she wished to hug him again, like before. Lance could only reply “not now”. He wasn’t ready.

With Coran, the roles had been reversed. It wasn’t the Altean putting his giant wings over Lance’s anymore. It was Lance putting his tiny, lean wings growing back feathers on Coran’s giant ones. They still shared thousands of stories of their lives, sometimes holding hands.

For Lance, the hardest to get used to back was Hunk. They did hold hands a lot, sometimes sat shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason, it had always been overwhelming. Before Eternity, their relationship had been the most tactile of all. They had next to no shame toward each other.

Going to a state where one touch could become too much was weird when he had to interact with Hunk, to say the least. But lately… he had been building his confidence back. He knew he would be able to be touched, without having to initiate contact. He knew everything would be okay. However, the only thing holding him back was fear.

_ Today _ , Lance told himself. Today he would overcome that fear.

He hadn’t hugged anyone yet. Now that he was used back to touches, he craved them more than ever. But he craved hugs the most. He wanted to feel safe and protected in someone’s arms and wings.

_ Today _ .

He had informed Shiro of his plan, hoping for moral support, and Shiro kissed him on the nose, agreeing wholeheartedly.

And that’s where he stood now, in front of Hunk’s room, holding Shiro’s arm tightly. He felt his hand being squeezed. Lance straightened, breathing in deeply, before nodding to himself. He could do this.

He heard the door open, and Shiro let go of him.

“Lance, Shiro?” came Hunk’s voice, from inside.

_ Today _

He smiled toward the source of the voice, and stepped forward. He paused. Could he do this? He heard Shiro whisper him encouraging words. He wouldn’t touch him to force him to do it. It was Lance’s and Lance’s moment alone.

He exhaled, before raising his head, hoping it would be toward Hunk. And he spread his arms. A clear invitation to be hugged.

Not even half a second later, he heard whatever project Hunk had been working on fall - and break, according to the metallic tingles afterward -, a chair rattling against the ground, and hurried steps coming straight toward him.

He was suddenly engulfed in two pairs of strong arms and wings.

Shivers went up and down his spine, as he immediately reciprocated the hug.

It felt heavenly.

His wings slowly started quivering, and huge tears came out. He hugged Hunk tighter, closer to him. He had missed this so much. He didn’t want to let go of his best friend, ever. He could feel Hunk tremble too. It didn’t take the big guy any longer to begin crying, and breaking down on Lance’s shoulders.

Lance couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t much better.  “I’ve missed you so much!” Hunk stuttered. It made Lance cry harder. It didn’t even care about hiding how  _ great _ it felt to be held, how immensely safe he felt. He had missed Hunk too. So much. Way too much. It felt like forever since they last had really been together. 

If it was possible, Lance hugged him tighter. “I love you, Hunk.”

His shoulder was most definitely soaked by now. The hug was starting to hurt a little, but he didn’t care. Hunk’s clothes were probably no better, and he didn’t go easy on the hugging. He didn’t want to let go. Not when he was with Hunk, and felt the closest to how he had been since Eternity.

“I love you too, Lance.”

Lance couldn’t have felt better.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been one of the rare nights where Lance hadn’t had one single nightmares.

He had woken up sleepy and groggy, feathers puffed up. A real mess of a morning. A comfortable one, though. He felt rested however, and couldn’t wait to start the morning routine he had with his flock.

He would first go to Shiro, they would often kiss a lot and nuzzle against each other’s wings. Then, holding hands, they would get to the kitchen, where Hunk had successfully claimed back the place.

He would get a big hug he’d happily give back. He couldn’t get enough touches from his flock. They all made sure to spend time together and touch each other. A bit like before.

It was the little changes that made it best.

The random kisses from Shiro on his face, or his ever so clumsy fingers.

The way Hunk and Pidge talked about everything together, and would squash Lance between them and would preen all together.

They way Allura would come spend more time with them once she was done helping building Lotor’s spaceship. Even if they were going to try going through the rift soon, she always would make a point to come share Altean games and would discover earth ones.

The way Coran decided to take care of all of them, and came to usher them to rest, eat and play, when they had a rough battle or training session. Acting more fatherly than ever.

All these little changes made Lance more confident than ever, and closer than ever to his flock.

Voltron had never been stronger than now.

Lance still took the time to linger in the warmth of his next, despite his excitement about the day. He stretched as wide as he could. Feeling his body and wings stretch long was beautiful. He was free to move. He wasn’t restrained.

As he brought his hands back down from his stretch, something pricked his wrist.

Strange. He didn’t remember bringing anything from his flock’s back to bed before sleeping. He patted around the area to check out what it was. It was soft and cottony. Long and then cut sharp.

He gasped. 

He knew what it was! Could it really be?!

Lance slowly passed his hand down his wingbone. Flashes of Eternity ame back to his mind as he did. He felt the need to snap his wings back, but he forced them open. He could pass over this. He was stronger. He had his flock.

His hand finally reached the end of the wing, and Lance  _ squealed _ .

His primaries were back!

… Could he fly?

Lance scrambled to his feet, trembling with excitement. He puffed his wings up and down, flipping them to straighten his morning feathers and to get the excess of energy out. He crouched low to get the necessary impulsion.

This was the moment. He was going to do it. His moment of truth. A shiver of excitement jittered through him, right before he brought his wings down.

His body immediately shot up. It felt so great feeling his body reach high… for the two seconds it lasted. His head met the ceiling with brutal force, and the next thing he knew, he was back in his nest, sprawled all over it, feathers sticking up from everywhere on his wings.

Lance moaned in pain, holding his face in his hands- with ten fingers. Had the ceiling always been this low?

The door opened swiftly soon after he heard a small beep coming from outside. Quickly, Shiro’s voice filled the room, asking if everything was okay. He helped him stand back up. Lance, however, was already giggling with glee, holding the clipped feather in his hands. With a smile that was burning his cheek, he shoved the feather forward, bumping Shiro with it, exclaiming he had moulted.

He had moulted!

There was a moment where Shiro froze. Even if Lance couldn’t see it, he was one hundred percent sure Shiro’s eyes were staring at his feather. And he was right.

A few seconds later, hands passed behind his wings, around his waist, and Shiro started laughing. Lance found himself wrapped up in Shiro’s arm as he was being spinned around. It was the biggest hug he had ever received from his lover.

Another small change he loved. More than anything.

He didn’t manage to count how many kisses he had received in one single morning.

.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the flock to learn about the big news.

Allura had immediately dropped helping Lotor, even if it was the final preparations, and came to the castle to find a planet where they would be able to land, and find a suitable place to spread their wings and just be.

Lance had been dragged down the medbay after the breakfast. He had, apparently, hit himself good over the head. Pidge had said it looked very nasty.

He believed her. It still hurt a lot, but the excitement of being able to fly again, and to  _ go _ fly was numbing the pain. He wasn’t bound to earth anymore! He could go be free in the sky again! He could go play outside with his flock!

Coran started treating the bruise, babbling out his excitement as well, but suddenly got quiet when he started applying the bandages. Hunk had asked if everything was okay, while squeezing Lance’s shoulder.

It seemed to bring the Altean man up. He replied with a cheerful voice, still as excited as before. “Oh, yes! Pidge is right, it  _ is _ quite the nasty wound! You will most likely have to get into a pod for it!”

Was it… was it really that bad?

Lance had probably made a face because not even one second later, Coran was blurting out quick words again. “But fear not, lad. It’s just to avoid it swelling too much and make you unable to fit that big head of yours in your helmet!”

There was an unusual tone in Coran’s voice. Lance snorted slightly. He wasn’t saying the whole truth. However, before he could ask for further clarification and the real facts, the Altean kept going. “Welp! We’re going to have your wings groomed and preened until they shine! We’ve got to pump up that flight experience, don’t we?”

“I’ll do it!” Coran, Pidge, Hunk and Shiro exclaimed all at once. Lance smiled again, the bump forgotten. He loved his flock.

.

“You ready, bud?”

Lance nodded, wings shaking with excitement. The mild breeze was whooshing around him, encouraging him,  _ begging _ him to fly.

He untangled his - ten - fingers from each other, and laid his arms long beside him. He spread his wings wide. In a flurry of feathers, he heard the others do the same. Shiro reminded him again that both himself and Hunk would be by his side for the dive, ready to talk him through.

Lance tried to control his breathing. He was excited. He could barely stand it. He didn’t want to wait anymore. So he didn’t. A gust of wind pushed against his wings, and he let it be the strong force, letting himself fall backwards from the cliff.

Feeling the wind slap against his face, through his locks and flatten his feathers. It was beautiful. He felt  _ liberated _ .

He felt a caress from his left. Unmistakably Shiro. A shy hand full of love. Lance reached out to grab that hand. He gave it a squeeze, just as Hunk grabbed the other, to reach closer to his best friend. He was told to turn his body the other way, and then start going back up.

So Lance let go of the hands, did half a turn on himself and snapped his wings open. He immediately danced through the wind, finding his way up, reaching the sky.

He let out a scream of joy when he felt the coolness of freedom refresh him. He screamed even more. It came from his guts. He was free.

He could fly.

.

The door of the pod hissed open and the cold air that came out of it made Lance shiver. He never was really fond of the feeling of being frozen alive he had in the pods. As soon as they got back Coran had insisted he had to get in. Why did he have to? Was it really because his helmet wouldn’t fit otherwise? Did that even make sense?

Pidge and Hunk hadn’t said anything about it so… he guessed it could be an actual problem? At least a bit? They usually would cut in the conversation when something seemed scientifically stupid to them.

However… an entire pod just for a head bump? It seemed a bit too much. Didn’t Alteans have a juniberry healing salve or something? Coran had told him that they went licking healing flowers when they were kids with Alfor one day. 

Before Lance could debate the utility of an  _ entire _ pod for a head bump any further, he felt a big wing nudge him toward it. “Come on! Chop, chop. In the pod!”

Lance got in, wary. Coran sounded definitely too happy about him getting into a pod. And it was no faking or façade happy. He was sincere about this. What could possibly make him joyful about a pod? Especially since he would most likely have to clean it afterwards.

He knew from experience that this wasn’t a pleasing task. Even Coran, who cleaned them almost religiously, would let out deep, frustrated sighs before doing so.

He should have been trying everything to make the bump better  _ without  _ the use of a pod. Or, at least, definitely not shove him forward with the most gleeful voice he had heard in a while from him.

The pod’s door closed on him, and he let the sleep wash over him.

.

When the numbness of the pod faded away, he was on his knees, in the arms of Coran. Determined, precise touches of long, slender and gloved fingers were always Coran.

He still wasn’t certain a whole pod had been necessary, but at least his head didn’t hurt anymore, that was for sure. He passed his hands over his fingers- yep, all ten of them were still there. He blinked his eyes open, to make his flock comfortable about it.

And stopped breathing.

He could see colors. Not blinding, purple ones, like the last he had seen from his own to eyes. Genuine colors. 

He… he could see his flock. Not clearly. But he could see Pidge’s green sweater, Hunk’s orange headband, the white of Shiro and Allura’s hair. He turned to Coran, his orange moustache more visible than ever.

Lance looked down. Ten fingers. He really had them all. He  _ could _ see them all. He wasn’t hallucinating. He hadn’t been hallucinating all this time either.

He felt the familiar burn of tears forming in his eyes as he looked back from Coran -  _ looking! _ \- to his hands, his flock and back to the man. He waited for explanations. The Altean had a wide smile on his lips - like everyone else - and he rubbed Lance’s shoulder with affection, his big wing around Lance’s whole frame.

“Surprise!” He said, in a soft voice. “You’re going to see a bit blurry for a bit, but it’s only going to improve. With the pod’s help, you might even be able to see even better than before!”

Lance’s tears rolled down his cheeks, but more were getting in his eyes, mixing all the colors together. When he blinked, the colors were still there. For the second time of that day, he giggled uncontrollably, ugly tears running down his cheeks. He had everything. Ten fingers, his feathers and his sight.

“G-guys.” He started. Gasping slightly for air. “I-I can see!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks to [ N1t3sh4d3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1t3sh4d3/pseuds/N1t3sh4d3) for keeping my morale up, and cheering me up while I was crying on my schedule!


End file.
